The Reason
by Melissa Rivers
Summary: Halloween is the time of year when people open their doors to children tricking and treating. For Kerry, it becomes a nightmare.
1. Default Chapter

THE REASON  
By Missy  
(missy@lexicon.net)  
  
The characters that you recognise from ER are the property of Michael Crichton, Warner Bros,  
Constant Productions and Amblin Television and to the actors who so marvellously portray them.   
Many thanks must go to my editors Clotho, Susan Drake and Carolyn Delaney for their tireless and  
marvellous editing. Season 6 spoilers.  
  
Spoilers up to The Peace of Wild Things or thereabouts. This story is rated R due to its content. It  
contains rather disturbing descriptions and is probably best read during daylight hours. My editors  
have informed me that it is rather chilling, creepy and does evoke some of those thoughts about  
things that go bump in the night and one of my editors has knicknamed it "The VeryScaryFic".  
  
The title comes from a song "We are the Reason" written and performed by David Meece; the lyrics  
will be at the end of the story. I couldn't get the last verse out of my mind when I was first thinking  
of writing this story and I felt the title was appropriate considering where I was heading with the  
story.   
  
This part and previous stories may be found at: http://www.geocities.com/missyliannem  
  
  
PART 1/14  
  
{October 31, 1999}  
  
Kerry struggled with the trash bag down the concrete flight of stairs at the front of her brownstone  
townhouse, keeping her balance with the aid of the wrought iron railing. There were only seven steps but  
it was seven painful reminders that she needed to get another tenant for her basement. Carter had vacated  
within the two weeks she had demanded. Now, it was already six weeks later and she still hadn't placed  
another advertisement. She didn't really need the money since she had been appointed Chief of  
Emergency Services, but that wasn't the reason she had not leased it again. There was something else  
holding her back.   
  
It was only at times like this when she was forced to face up to the fact that she needed someone  
to do the garbage and things like replacing the dead light bulb on her front porch. She had only allowed  
herself to get as far as sitting down with pen and paper before she turned her attention elsewhere, avoiding  
the issue completely until next time. Lately, she had forgotten about the garbage until very late in the  
evening and had to struggle in the midst of darkness.  
  
The early November air was chilly. Placing the bag in the trash can at the curb, Kerry didn't take  
time to make sure the trash can was placed in the correct position, the cold quickly penetrating her thin  
woollen cardigan. Pulling the sweater more tightly around herself, she immediately turned back up the stairs  
and into the warmth of the centrally heated house. The stairs took her longer than usual. A faint stream  
of light from her hallway gave her a fair idea of the height of each of the steps. After a mis-step with last  
week's garbage, which had resulted in a large bruise on her shin, she was being extra careful not to miss  
a step without the added lighting from the porch.  
  
Pushing open the heavy, dark wooden door, she welcomed the tentacles of warmth that wrapped  
themselves around her, caressing the tips of her frozen fingers into tingling awareness. Closing the door  
with a firm push, Kerry set the shiny double barrel lock. Collecting her crutch from beside the door, she  
turned down the well lit, lightly painted hallway, its large matching pastel paintings dominating the features  
of the walls.   
  
The doorbell rang, surprising her as she couldn't recall seeing anyone outside moments before. But  
it wasn't as if she had been looking out for anyone either. The glass in the wooden door allowed her to  
distinguish the bulky shape of a man. Kerry slipped the chain across the top of the lock before releasing  
the lock and opening the door to speak with the gentleman.   
  
"Can I help you?" Kerry couldn't place the man yet a small region at the back of her mind niggled  
with recognition. She tried to concentrate on it but could not bring the memory to the surface.  
  
The man failed to respond other than by slamming his foot in between the open door and the door  
jam. A jolt of fear coursed its way through her spine and momentarily held her in its clutches. Her  
defences took over and Kerry thrust her entire weight against the door, using her crutch as a spike and  
jabbing it firmly down on his foot.   
  
To her relief, his foot began a slow retraction from its beaten down position and she parried a final  
thrust to encourage it to completely disappear. She shifted her weight, ready to secure the lock the moment  
the foot disappeared. Kerry wasn't ready for the thrust against the door. The chain visibly strained under  
the pressure of the heavy set man, one of the screws bolted into the door jam giving a groan as it twisted  
and broke.   
  
Realising the futility of leaning against the door, Kerry raced down the length of the hallway to the  
kitchen. In the time it took her to get there, the intruder had landed another two thuds against the heavy  
wooden door, each ferocious thrust slowly rupturing the strength of the interlocked slip chain.   
Once in the kitchen, she grabbed hold of the phone on the wall just inside the doorway. Fear  
coursed through her in waves, her shaking hands managing to knock the handset to the floor. Without  
bothering to pick it up, she pressed the numbers for 911. Kerry caught hold of the spiralled cord as the  
call was connecting, pulling the receiver up to her ear. She paced back and forth as she waited for the call  
to be answered, listening intently for the final sound of her front door caving in under the forceful demands.  
  
Finally, her call was answered and she informed them in low tones about the intruder attempting  
to break into her house. She was about to give them her address when the front door slammed against the  
wall with a hail of shattered glass.  
  
"He's just got in! Please get someone here! Now! I live at....." Kerry's voice was frantic and  
she broke off when the source of her fears thundered into the living room. Survival instincts cut in and she  
hit the speakerphone button before hanging up the handset. As Kerry reached sideways for the block of  
carving knives, she called out her address and hoped that the operator would understand it.   
With the knife in one hand, she slammed her hand against the wall desperately groping for the light  
switch. As soon as the room was shrouded in darkness, Kerry moved as fast as she could out of the room  
without waiting for her eyes to become adjusted to the new setting, cursing the tap-tap of her crutch on the  
wooden floor. The hall light still shone through and Kerry could hear the sound of heavy soled shoes  
following her. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and find out where he was.  
  
In a last minute decision, Kerry slipped through the door to the basement. Easing the door quietly  
shut, she stood for a moment in the pitch blackness which seemed to surround and invade her being. Her  
heart felt like it was jumping out of her chest and she had to concentrate to reduce her breathing to a  
minimal wheeze of dread. She cursed herself for never having put a lock on the door, the fear of her  
tenant's safety in the event of a fire overriding the need for their privacy.  
  
She was hoping that the intruder would simply just take her valuables and leave, not worrying about  
the fact she could possibly identify him. In case she was wrong, she descended the stairs, closing her eyes  
to concentrate more fully on the number and distance they were apart. The last thing she needed to do was  
fall and land on the large butcher knife she was carrying.   
  
Kerry was relieved to reach the bottom of the stairs, not having realised how steep and dangerous  
they were before. Turning around past the last stair, she bumped into a large wooden box and bit her  
tongue to stop herself moaning at the sharp stab of pain in her shinbone. Maneuvering around the box, she  
wedged herself under the stairs and prayed that someone, anyone would stop the menace upstairs.  
  
It seemed like an eternity as she heard the slow deliberate footfalls hitting the bare wood floors  
upstairs. The sounds echoed in the empty darkness. Time seemed to slow to a crawl with no reward of  
the blessed wail of a police siren in response to her garbled call. Kerry felt the muscles in her legs tightening  
and her feet cramping from the crouched position she was huddled in. But any temptation to move was  
stilled with each new footfall. The cold air tickled her throat and she kept swallowing, resisting the urge  
to cough.  
  
The creak of the door above her opening and light flowing into the room, spilling forth like a ray  
of sunshine from the heavens, alerted her to his presence.   
  
"Kerry? Where are you?" The high pitched voice belied the bulky frame that housed it, the tone  
of voice carrying forth the demented tones of not just an intruder but an invader.   
  
Alarm filled her as she wondered about how he knew her name. Common sense told her that he  
probably had found it in her wallet but apprehension permeated every pore of her body as she wondered  
why he was calling after her.   
  
"You do realise the police won't be coming. I spoke to them and told them of your 'problem' with  
alcohol. And we both know that you have been picked up for driving while drunk. Amazing the  
information that can be found when needed."  
  
Kerry's blood ran cold in her veins at the intruder's words and she covered her mouth to stifle a  
gasp of surprise. This was more than just a robbery she realised. He knew about her embarrassing  
encounter with the law. It wasn't that he knew about it that worried her but the fact that he'd taken the time  
to find out.   
  
"I've locked the front door and we both know there's no other way out of here. It'll be much  
easier if you just come out."   
  
The last sentence hung in the air, incomplete. The inference that things would be better if he didn't  
have to come searching for her were plain. Kerry swallowed, trying to dispel the lump of terror in her  
throat growing by the second like bacteria left to breed in a warm room. She knew in her own mind that  
either way, in his presence, her circumstances were dire. The longer it took for him to find her was, in her  
opinion, a bonus. She shrunk back further into her corner as she heard the door shut, cloaking the room  
in darkness once again. She could still hear him moving around at the top of the stairs and knew what he  
was looking for.  
  
Kerry expelled the breath she had been holding slowly as she heard the top stair groan under his  
weight. Her relief was palpable. The intruder hadn't turned on the light switch for the basement. It wasn't  
easy to locate and it meant that her position might just save her from him. She tried to keep each breath  
slow and steady as the wooden stairs revealled his movements to her, his heavy bulk taking each step in  
what seemed to be a careful, deliberate pace. Kerry thought that a snail would have moved faster. She  
was unsure whether he was being cautious or just using the time to expand the panic which was threatening  
to overwhelm her.   
  
The intruder had reached the bottom of the stairs and she finally knew why he hadn't attempted  
find the light switch. A beam of light broke through the darkness, illuminating the opposite wall. Closing  
her eyes, she sent up a prayer to a God she hadn't thought of since her teenage years, seeking deliverance  
from this nightmare.   
  
Kerry didn't even attempt to look at the man as he moved around the basement, hoping that the  
shadows might conceal her small frame. The shaft of light methodically travelled around the room, over  
the furniture, unveiling everything in its path. The silence was deafening and she froze as the beam arched  
its way towards and then over her secreted corner, its rays seeking out anything in the shadows. It settled  
on her spot and stayed there for an indeterminate period of time. To Kerry it seemed like an eternity before  
it moved on. She let out a quiet sigh of relief when the light finally disappeared with a snap. She strained  
to hear his retreating footsteps after his aborted search but there was nothing. Silence. Eerie silence.  
  
All of a sudden Kerry became aware of a presence, a large menacing figure towering over her.   
In an oddly childish gesture, the intruder turned on the flashlight underneath his chin and gave a macabre  
smile, enjoying the horror he saw there. "Happy Halloween, Kerry."  
  
End Part 1/14 


	2. Chapter 2

PART 2/14  
  
The scream that she wanted to bellow came out as a mouse-like squeak and the knife she had held  
so tightly in her hands clattered to the ground. The man let out a full bellied laugh. The chilling effect was  
that the laughter didn't reach his eyes. Looking into the icy blue pools reminded her of looking into the  
depths of hell. Kerry shrivelled under the penetrating gaze, his eyes stripping her of everything. He gave  
a cold grin of pleasure as he slowly drank in her form, running his tongue over his lips in anticipation.  
  
"Get up." The voice held no emotion; just a barked command that begged obedience. Kerry did  
not even run through the thought of not obeying it. She was no match for the immense bulk of her intruder  
from her curled up position. As she rose to her feet, she felt the deaden weights of her legs which had lost  
their circulation in the time she had been crouched down. She winced as they began tingling once her blood  
started coursing through them, the shooting darts of pain a welcome diversion from his frigid eyes.  
  
"Move." A large hand grasped her upper arm roughly, pushing her forward, towards the stairs.   
"You should have come out when you had the chance."   
  
Climbing the stairs slowly, she used the beam of light from the flashlight he was holding to guide her  
way. Stairs had never been easy for her and were made all the more difficult with the waves of fear  
coursing their way through her, her fingers shaking as they grasped the crutch all the more tightly to still the  
involuntary movement. Kerry knew things were not going to get better when they got to the top of the  
stairs. Gathering her wits about her, she began reciting a mantra designed to calm her and give herself the  
confidence that she would get out of this dilemma.   
  
Rounding the top of the stairs, she startled the man when she whipped her crutch in the air and  
caught him with the aluminum rod under the chin in a move which replicated the one Randi had made in her  
early days in the ER. The intruder's jaw cracked under the pressure and his neck snapped backwards with  
the force of the attack. Kerry was surprised that the move had been so successful and stood there  
watching the effect of her assault. An indignant bellow of pain tore through the air and it was her turn to  
be caught unawares when the intruder's hand crashed the flashlight into the side of her skull. In an  
explosion, pain seared through her head. Her eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness and sank to the  
ground.  
  
*************  
  
Kerry groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. The room was dark except for the muted lighting  
coming from the small lamp off to her left on a bedside table. She found that her whole head was aching  
and she shut her eyes again in an attempt to help ease the pain. The slightest movement only served to set  
off a chain reaction of searing jolts. Holding completely still, she attempted to once again open her eyes.   
Her eyes adjusted to the soft light. She found that she was in her own bedroom. Thinking that she had  
turned on a good drinking session, she fully expected a bottle of scotch to be sitting on her nightstand.   
Cursing herself for her stupidity to sink into drink again, she attempted to roll over and found that she  
couldn't.  
  
Awareness came back to her abruptly as she discovered herself bound, spread-eagled on her own  
bed, dressed only in a lacy negligee. She swore to herself, ignoring the pain tearing through her skull, as  
she pulled against the restraints. Panic filled her and as she struggled to break free of the constricting  
bonds, which only tightened in response to her movements, the rough cord chaffing at her soft wrists. Tears  
welled in her eyes and spilled over, despair filling her. She stilled her movements, the fruitlessness of the  
situation sweeping over her.   
  
As she finished her bout of crying, Kerry realised that she wasn't alone. She sensed more than saw  
the man sitting there, watching her, taking pleasure in her discomfort and fear. A turn of her head confirmed  
her suspicions. Gritting her teeth together, she was angry with herself for succumbing to the self-indulgence  
of tears. Especially with someone watching, and all the more because it was the cause of her fears that had  
led her to her breakdown.   
  
"Who are you? What do you want?" Kerry's strident voice carried across the room with only the  
smallest quaver of fear tinging the questions.   
  
"Is that any way to speak to the person who has taken care of you?"  
  
"Care. You call this care?" Her voice rose a notch, indignation dripping off each word as she spat  
them out. She pulled at the bonds that held her fast.  
  
"That's for my protection, Kerry. You shouldn't have attacked me. I wouldn't have had to tie you  
up like this if you hadn't." He moved over from the white wicker seat he had been sitting on, the cane  
giving soft groans as it was relieved from the weight of his body. Approaching the bed, he ran a finger over  
the top of her small foot, enjoying the shiver that ran through her leg at his touch. His words were slow as  
his finger leisurely travelled up the delicately shaped calves. "In any relationship there must be trust."  
  
"We don't have a relationship!" She tried to pull her leg away as far as she could from his touch.  
  
"Not true. I've known you for some time now. I've been looking forward to this day for some  
time now." The way the man allowed those last words to drip off his tongue shook Kerry to her core, the  
raw anticipation of desire in his eyes stripping the words of their innocence.  
  
Kerry narrowed her eyes and looked at the man more closely, the initial familiarity of his face  
beginning to sink in. It wasn't that she knew him per se; it was the fact that he had been in her presence  
so many times, that her sub-conscious had registered who he was. Doing her grocery shopping, travelling  
on the El to work; going to the theatre; at the music store. The number of places that she could recall  
seeing his features had her squirming away from him as far as she could, whimpering in fear at the man who  
had been so obviously stalking her for some time. Yet, not once, had her clinical judgement recognised  
that he had been doing so.   
  
"You remember, don't you?" He sat down on the bed, leaning over her and softly running his  
fingers up and down her side. His touch was light and feathery yet dangerous. His demeanour rippled with  
controlled desire. "The way our hands met when you dropped the packet of soup mix. The smile you gave  
me on the train as we travelled together and the final invitation was that stunning black outfit you wore for  
me last week to the theatre. The way your leg showed each time you took a step. I knew right then that  
you were ready."  
  
Placing a hand on the bed, one on each side of her body, he brought his head closer to hers. Kerry  
was powerless to pull away as his mouth slowly inched forward towards her own, the odour of his cologne  
repulsing her. She could detail every inch of his face, from the pronounced roman nose to the marks left  
from a bad case of acne. She turned her head away, trying to avoid the thick lips that were only millimetres  
from her own.   
  
He grasped her chin roughly and ground his lips against hers, his teeth grazing her delicate skin.   
He teeth nipped at the fine flesh, his lips suckling at them. Pushing with his tongue he sought entrance into  
the soft recesses of her mouth, his strength no match for Kerry. His tongue plundered her mouth and Kerry  
clamped her teeth down hard on the large fleshy piece of meat. A contorted scream of agony filled the  
room. Kerry only released her hold when he blindsided her head with his fist.   
  
She moaned at the further rush of pain filling her head, wishing that she would lose consciousness  
again just to be released from the nightmare. She began to get worried about the damage he had inflicted  
on her when a rising and falling wail filled her head, it's insistent drone repeating itself over and over again  
and gaining strength.  
  
The man heaved himself off the bed, nursing his sore mouth and disappeared from the room. Kerry  
had no idea where he had gone to. She had seen the furious anger that had changed his eyes from flat  
plateaus to blazing fires when she bit on his tongue. If she had thought she was in danger before, she knew  
that her attack had just tipped her intruder over the edge.  
  
Time seemed to have ground to a halt. Silence reigned and Kerry strained to hear what was  
happening. The lack of noise worried her and she twisted at the coarse rope again, frantically trying to  
release herself from the bonds. This man seemed intent on dragging her though an emotional torture,  
enhancing and manipulating her fear to its fullest extent until it was so taut that the slightest amount of  
pressure would cause her to snap.  
  
Her doorbell rang, followed quickly with a pounding on the door. Kerry stilled her movement,  
waiting for whoever it was to realise that something was wrong. The glass in the front door was broken,  
surely they would figure it out.   
  
A commanding voice called out; "Police."   
  
"Please. Help." Kerry almost didn't recognise the whisper of a voice which escaped her throat.   
She found herself repeating the same words over and over, the words fading as she lost hope of anyone  
ever finding her. She could hear footfalls, the sounds sometimes heavier and at other times, fading until  
there was silence once again. Kerry feared that they would leave without finding her, leaving her to the  
mercy of her attacker. Tears of relief flooded down the sides of her face when a police officer rounded  
the doorway, his gun drawn and scanned the room.   
  
He paused a moment as he took in Kerry's tethered position and a look of shock passed over his face.   
He quickly doused his thoughts, continuing his visual sweep of the room. "Is he still here?" The officer  
asked the question quietly.  
  
"I don't know. Please untie me." Kerry had never heard herself be so unassertive, begging for  
assistance. The police officer ignored her pleas, just indicating with a finger to his lips for her to be quiet  
as he entered the room and checked it fully.  
  
Another officer appeared at the doorway and the two collaborated in hushed tones. Kerry strained  
to hear what was being said, only catching the odd word here and there. The first police officer returned  
to her side. He was a tall, slim, young African-American by the name of Mac he told her as he cut the  
coarse rope from her hands with a pocket knife. She flinched at the light touch of his fingers. He softly  
reassured her, "You're safe. He's gone. He's not in the house anymore. Everything will be okay."  
  
Kerry wasn't sure if he was right. Was everything going to be okay?  
  
End Part 2/14 


	3. Chapter 3

PART 3/14  
  
"Could you please turn on the lights?" Kerry's voice was soft and husky as she pushed herself  
up into a sitting position. For a moment the room dipped and spun, reminding her to take things a bit  
more slowly. Her body was telling her to just lie back and take it easy but she no longer wished to lie  
on the bed that had become her prison.  
  
Her hands had now been released from the constricting bonds and she rubbed the raw,  
reddened areas of her wrists. She no longer wanted to endure the soft yellow light from the side lamp.  
The room had taken on a sinister air, the gentle radiance from the light allowing shadows to enter the  
bedroom. Darkness which allowed evil to penetrate and destroy.   
  
She watched Mac cut the cords from her feet. They seemed disconnected from her; the small  
feet lying completely still, the delicate sweep of each ankle marred by more redness. Kerry watched  
the tiny droplets of blood which were intermingled in the rawness with a detached sense of fascination  
as they gradually changed colour from bright red to a dark burgundy. Somewhere, deep down, she  
knew that there should be some sort of pain associated with the fact that there was blood, but there  
wasn't. The last of the heavy rope fell away from her ankles and she quickly pulled her legs up, hugging  
them close to her chest, away from the touch of the police officer's hands.   
  
Mac looked up at her reaction, understanding why she wanted no contact with him, yet wanting  
to do something for this petite woman sitting huddled in the middle of the bed. He noticed that her  
hands were shaking, the delicate fingers trembling and jumping . He moved away from her, his actions  
slow and deliberate, so as not to startle her, and he went across the room to turn on the lights.  
  
Kerry avoided any direct contact with his eyes when she asked, "Can you pass me some  
clothes?" Her voice broke as she finished the sentence and a tear spilled down her cheek. She turned  
away from Mac, slipping her legs over the edge of the bed to dangle above the floor, and brushed the  
stray tear with the back of her hand.   
  
Mac flicked the switch for the bedroom light before handing her the heavy cream-coloured  
housecoat he had found hanging on the hook behind the bedroom door. He had noticed it when he had  
checked behind the door for the intruder. Now he wondered what his partner was doing, moving to  
the doorway to have a look. He could hear the sounds of movement back in the living area and  
recognised the footfalls of his tall, well-built partner.  
  
"Thank you," Kerry said quietly as she got unsteadily to her feet and took hold of the  
housecoat. She had to check her grip on the material when she almost dropped it, her fingers still numb  
from the constricting cords. Wrapping the housecoat around herself with deliberate care, Kerry  
secured the belt firmly around her waist. Sinking gratefully back onto the support of the bed, she  
hugged her arms across herself tightly, her fingers toying nervously with the edge of the terrycloth belt.   
  
The static sound of a mobile radio blared into action, breaking the silence and causing Kerry to  
jump visibly. She was surprised to find she hadn't noticed Mac had left her side and was now talking  
to a heavy-set officer whose bulk filled the doorway. Distantly, she knew she should be wanting to  
know what they were talking about. But all she really wanted right now was to curl up on the sofa, with  
a light on, and some music to break the silence. Anything that would keep the house from being dark  
and silent.   
  
"Your name is Kerry? Kerry Weaver?" The senior police officer, who had been consulting  
with Mac, spoke to her. His voice was deep and gravelly, devoid of any emotion, and seemingly  
honed to manage to deal equally efficiently with all of the wide variety of people he met on a daily basis.   
The large officer's beefy hand held a card, which he consulted before he looked back across at her.  
  
"Yes. That's right," she replied, her voice breaking as she said the three words. Kerry realised  
that he had located her driver's licence. Her purse had been sitting on her desk, and she was grateful  
that the intruder had not taken it. Having to cancel all her credit cards and rearrange new cards,  
licences, and the other bits and pieces she kept in there would have been a nuisance.  
  
"Can I call you Kerry? I'm Officer Jack Daniels." Officer Daniels softened his voice, sensing  
Kerry's emotional fragility.  
  
She gave a single nod, not trusting her voice to betray her again. The affirmative nod sent a  
streak of pain through her head, and she took heed of the physical warning, avoiding any further  
movement. Kerry kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, trying to still the tremors that had  
started with her hands and were quickly spreading through her, rocking her entire body.  
  
"Kerry, how about we all go into the living room and we can sit down there?" While Officer  
Daniels entered the room, he kept his distance from Kerry, wary of what Mac had told him, how she  
had reacted to his touch.   
  
Kerry went to stand up and realised that her crutch was missing, probably still located  
somewhere near the basement at least that was where she assumed it would be. But right now she  
didn't want to use the aluminium pole that had resulted in her being knocked unconscious and tied to  
her bed.   
  
"I need my cane. Could you get it for me? It's in the umbrella stand." She didn't trust herself  
to be able to walk the distance to the living area.  
  
Mac left to fetch the cane she reserved for special occasions. While she gingerly got to her  
feet, she noticed that Officer Daniels was watching her carefully, assessing and scrutinising her. She  
cringed under his probing look and he realised that he was making her uncomfortable. Turning his  
attention away from Kerry, he examined the room from where he was standing, noting the remnants of  
the rope attached to each post of the bed.   
  
"The paramedics and detectives should be here any moment," he commented, trying to ease  
her discomfort, but only serving to make her more on edge.   
  
"I'm fine." Kerry knew she wasn't 'fine' but she didn't need paramedics or any doctors to tell  
her that. "I'm a doctor so you can cancel the paramedics."   
  
"You've got a shiner and cut to the side of your face that'd rival one issued by Ali. I'd like you  
to get checked out, just to be on the safe side." Jack tried his best to get her to accept the fact that  
she'd be seen by the paramedics.   
  
Mac returned to the room and handed Kerry the polished wood cane with its carved metallic  
handgrip. Bearing her weight on the cane, she moved with care into the well-lit hallway, and descended  
down the stairs to the ground floor, heading towards the living area, and leaving the two police officers  
to follow her.  
  
They almost knocked Kerry over when she stopped suddenly, once she had reached the  
ground floor, at the open basement door. She was mesmerised by her crutch where it lay in the  
doorway, dented and marred by a smear of blood.   
  
On the floor there was a larger blood stain and she vividly remembered the scene at the top of  
the stairs, the way she had swung the crutch around, catching her attacker underneath his chin. She had  
heard his teeth snap together and the anger which had flared in his eyes. Once again, she saw his fist  
coming at her, and this time heard the crack as it connected, bone to bone. The room shimmered and  
swirled, the lights dimming to a pinpoint before fading out all together, her body falling into emptiness.   
"Kerry?" Jack was just fast enough to catch her before she collapsed to the floor in a dead  
faint. Her cane cluttered to the floor near the open door, lying parallel to her crutch; the straight, dark  
wooden staff a sharp contrast to the bent and bloodied crutch, its flawlessness a memory.  
  
"I don't know if I'd trust her judgement if she was my doctor," Mac quipped, collecting the  
cane from the floor, as Jack easily picked Kerry up in his arms and carried her into the living room.   
Jack gave him a warning glare. "She didn't want to admit her weakness. This woman has just  
been tied up at the mercy of some lunatic; I don't blame her for wanting to try and maintain some  
control, even if she wasn't up to it."  
  
Mac had the decency to look contrite at his partner's reprimand as he placed the cane back  
into the umbrella stand. It was all too easy to become immune to a victim's needs, treating them with  
the same flippancy used to cope with the day to day pressures of the job. When a victim was  
unconscious and could obviously not hear what was being said, it was very tempting to say things that  
he would not consider under other circumstances. His partner had lectured him on giving all people, no  
matter whether conscious or unconscious; black or white; an equal amount of respect.   
  
The sound of several sirens heralded the arrival of paramedics and detectives. The flash of red  
and blue lights coming through the open curtains gave the room a kaleidoscopic appearance. Jack laid  
Kerry gently onto the white leather couch. He picked up a pillow from the recliner and placed it  
underneath her head and readjusted the housecoat to ensure that she was completely covered.   
  
"I'll go outside and show them in." Mac felt awkward and like a loose limb, watching his  
usually brusque partner gently tending to the needs of the unconscious doctor.  
  
"You do that," Jack agreed shortly. He was annoyed with himself for not being more careful  
with Kerry. He had known what lay at the top of the basement stairs and his years of experience should  
have dictated his actions.   
  
Taking a look out the window, he wondered what was taking the paramedics so long. Mac  
was talking to the two paramedics as they pulled their gear from the ambulance.   
  
Within moments the house was bustling with movement. The detectives began their inspection  
of the crime scene. Jack accompanied the detectives on their inspection, leaving Mac to sit by Kerry,  
and gave details of what they had found when they had arrived. A police photographer began his task  
in the bedroom, capturing in achromatic images the remnants of the attack, devoid of any human  
attachment.  
  
The paramedics dropped their medical paraphernalia to the floor, their eyes opening wide as  
they took in who the patient was.   
  
"How long has she been unconscious?" Zadro asked, pushing the coffee table out of the way to  
give himself room to open the medical box.   
  
"A couple of minutes. She fainted in the hallway," Mac told them. He thought for a moment,  
and then continued, "She may have lost consciousness before that though. I'm not sure, since I didn't  
ask. I was more concerned with getting her untied."  
  
Doris looked at him quizzically, wondering the extent of the assault that Dr. Weaver had  
endured. The call on the radio had only relayed that a woman had been assaulted. She had noted the  
broken glass in the door, and had assumed that the it was a domestic violence matter. The mention of  
the small doctor having been bound made her blood run cold. Doris checked Kerry's breathing and  
pulse rate, telling Zadro the results.   
  
Zadro pulled out the blood pressure cuff and knelt by Kerry's side. He pushed the sleeve of  
her housecoat up and found that he could not get it up far enough to enable him to wrap the cuff around  
her upper arm. Undoing the belt of the gown, he removed her arm carefully from the sleeve and  
slipped the cuff around her thin arm. While taking the pressure, he noted the abrasions to her wrist and  
the traces of bruising to her arm.   
  
As Doris flashed the penlight into Kerry's eyes, Kerry jerked her head sideways, pushing away  
at the light with her right hand. Feeling the constriction around her left arm, she roused to  
consciousness quickly, twisting away from the tightness and seeking release. Terror filled her and she  
struck out forcefully at her unseen attacker, her left hand connecting with flesh as fear gripped her once  
again. A sob of panic escaped the constriction of her throat as she struggled to move away.   
  
Hands caught hold of her wrists and she fought against them. Another set of hands caught hold  
of her face, a voice gently repeating over and over that she was safe. The words broke through the  
waves of alarm, her jerky movements abated, and the familiar face of Doris came into focus.   
  
"Hi. Can you tell me your name?"  
  
Kerry nodded, whispering her name. Catching sight of the red mark on Zadro's cheek, she felt  
her own cheeks redden, her pale skin a traitor to her emotions. Embarrassment flooded through her as  
she realised that she had caused the injury. "I'm sorry." Kerry whispered the words over and over.   
She pushed herself further up on the couch and found the room dip and spin, the lights fading for a  
moment before becoming spots across her vision.  
  
"Easy Dr. Weaver. Your BP is fairly low and you'll be feeling the effects of that." Zadro  
debated whether to say any more or just accept that he'd gotten that far. The doctor he knew from  
County General was strong and he was having trouble equating her with the quivering mass of nerves  
before him now. Throwing caution out the window, he continued, "How about you just lie back and let  
Doris finish examining you?"  
  
Doris lightly put her hands on Kerry's shoulders, gently encouraging her to lie down. Kerry  
gave in to the soft touch and allowed herself to settle back onto the pillow. Crouching down on his  
haunches, Zadro noted down the details of her exam on the chart.   
  
Kerry settled back on the pillow, not wishing to experience a third loss of consciousness that  
night. If she was conscious, she would be able to have a say in her medical care. Doris continued her  
examination, doing so with virtually no comment. Kerry winced when she palpated her left cheekbone  
and orbital area.  
  
"Did you lose consciousness when you were hit?"  
  
Kerry nodded in the affirmative and regretted the movement. The ache in her head was  
steadily increasing and the left side of her face felt like it was about to explode.   
  
"We'll need to take you to County." Doris' words were firm as she looked at Kerry eye to  
eye. The challenge was laid down.   
  
"No."  
  
"Dr. Weaver, you have at the very least a concussion. You need a head CT, orbital and  
mandible x-rays to check that there are no fractures. You know the procedure for a concussion and  
know that if you had a patient with your case history, you would insist that they spend the night for  
observation."  
  
"I don't you to take me to County. I don't want them to know about this. Please, take me to  
Mercy. I don't want you to take me to County." Kerry's eyes flicked between the two paramedics,  
pleading with them to do as she asked.   
  
They knew the rules about taking the patient to the closest hospital or as directed by their  
HMO. They didn't want to get reprimanded; yet the look in Kerry's eyes at the thought of her  
colleagues knowing about this moved them both to ignore the rules and follow compassion for a fellow  
healthcare worker.  
  
End Part 3/14 


	4. Chapter 4

PART 4  
  
Kerry opened her eyes as she felt the ambulance come to a stop and then reverse. It was a familiar  
scene; however, it was the first time that she had experienced it as the patient. During the trip, she had  
deliberately kept her eyes closed, avoiding the possibility of conversation or worse; any look of sympathy  
in Doris' eyes.   
  
The doors of the ambulance were flung open and the gurney slid smoothly out into the waiting hands  
of a resident and two nurses. Frigid air instantly hit Kerry's face as if a cold bucket of water had been  
thrown over her; the temperature had dropped quite drastically since she had put out the garbage earlier  
that evening. Zadro gave the bullet as they rolled the gurney into the emergency department and down the  
hallway to the Trauma Room.   
  
Kerry had trouble concentrating on Zadro's words, finding that the fluid spiel sounded like a  
speeding train, the words flowing into each other and accelerating, leaving her behind in their wake. The  
fluorescent lights above her seemed to stretch into one another, becoming one long beacon of light spanning  
the length of the hallway. She shut her eyes to shut out the feeling of being on top of a torpedo, shooting  
down a well-lit hollow without any sign of hitting a target.  
  
The gurney slowed down and came to a stop beside the trauma room exam table. Hands reached  
over and grabbed hold of the sheet beneath Kerry and swiftly moved her across before she had a chance  
to even consider objecting. Within a minute, the paramedics had removed their equipment, leaving her  
alone in the care of the doctor and nurse.   
  
"Hi Kerry. I'm Dr. Josh Wynne. Do you know where you are?" Dr. Wynne asked as he slipped  
the stethoscope from around his neck. He towered over Kerry; the third year resident easily topped six  
foot four inches in height and a lock of his strawberry blonde hair slipped forward as he checked her  
breathing.  
  
"Yeah. Mercy Hospital." Kerry looked up at him quizzically, wondering why the residents seemed  
to be getting taller every year. Her attention was diverted as she felt her arm sheathed in another blood  
pressure cuff and she turned her head towards the dark haired nurse, watching the routine procedure with  
detached interest.  
  
"Do you know what day it is?"   
  
She looked back at him inquisitively, gray eyes meeting each other, and she took a moment to  
digest the question before she confirmed the date, day and year for him. The nurse reported her blood  
pressure and pulse rate. Kerry struggled to read the nurse's name, but couldn't without her glasses. She  
regretted moving her head so quickly, spots of whiteness dancing before her eyes once again.  
  
"How do you feel?"   
  
"Dizzy."  
  
"Anything else? Look up there." Josh pointed up in the air to indicate the direction he wanted her  
to look as he pointed his penlight into each of her eyes.   
  
"I've got a headache, I feel nauseous, and I'm tired," Kerry answered shortly. She was forthright  
with her answers, wishing that the night would end and she could go to sleep.  
  
"Did you hit your head?" Josh moved to the head of the gurney and checked her for any signs of  
a skull fracture and examined her neck for spasm and bony tenderness. He slowly manipulated her head,  
checking for her range of movement.  
  
"I don't know; I don't think so."   
  
"You lost consciousness?" Josh asked quietly as he checked the function of the cranial nerves. Then  
he continued his neurological examination with deep tendon reflexes for all four limbs keeping his  
movements smooth and easy as he changed his position around the gurney. He noted the depressed  
reaction of her left leg, but it was expected; the paramedics had informed him of her physical disability.  
  
"Yeah. I'm not sure how long it was."   
  
"You were unconscious when the paramedics arrived, was that the only time you lost  
consciousness." Josh asked her to follow his finger, looking for sluggish response of the pupils. He tested  
the extraocular eye movements, checking for diplopia when she gazed upward and check her sensation  
over the infraorbital nerve distribution.  
  
"No. I was knocked out when he hit me."  
  
"What did he hit you with?" Josh symmetrically palpated the supra- and infraorbital rims as well  
as the zygoma, feeling for any sign of a fracture.  
  
"His hand; it could have been a fist, I'm not sure."  
  
"From the cut on your head, I would say that it was his fist. He must have been wearing a ring of  
some sort, there is a clearly defined indentation. You'll need a few sutures to close it."  
  
"You said that you lost consciousness twice, why did you collapse the second time?"  
  
"I was walking down the hallway and I felt dizzy, I must have fainted."  
  
"Kerry, you are a doctor. You know the procedure with this type of case. We need to document  
your injuries for the police."  
  
"Yes," Kerry agreed.   
  
"Kerry, you know I have to ask this question and I know that it will be difficult for you. Were you  
raped?"  
  
Kerry caught her bottom lip between her teeth to stop it from quivering, her throat tightened and  
constricted. She tried once to give her answer and found that no sound came out. Swallowing, she tried  
again. "I don't think so. I'm sure I'd know if I was. Wouldn't I?"   
  
"If you were unconscious, he could have raped you without your knowledge. Do you think you  
could have been?"  
  
"I don't know. I truly don't know." Kerry felt the tears welling up as she wondered what the  
attacker could have done while she was out of it. She had noticed that the muscles in her legs and hips  
were sore, more so than usual, and it was both hips, not just her left. Could he have violated her in that  
way? He had stalked her, beaten her and tied her up. Raping her was well within the bounds of possibility.   
  
  
"I think it might be best to do a rape exam, just to be sure. If it will make you more comfortable,  
I could get one of our female doctors to perform the exam."  
  
"No. No other doctors, please." She didn't think she could cope with going through more  
questions with another doctor.  
  
"I want you to have a CT scan to rule out a subdural hematoma. When you come back, we'll  
complete your exam. Sam, can you arrange for her to go to radiology? Before you go, for the purpose  
of any police inquiry, I will need to take some samples from under your nails so that there is no risk of  
contamination of the sample."   
  
Another nurse entered the room and whispered in his ear, too softly for Kerry to hear.  
  
"Kerry, the detectives are here and want to ask you some questions. Do you think you're up to  
answering them?"   
  
Kerry struggled to cope with the detectives' questions, answering them as best she could, but  
finding it very hard to concentrate, especially when they kept asking what seemed to her to be the same  
questions in different ways. She allowed them to take a sample of her hair for DNA testing in order to rule  
her own hair out of the equation. Dr. Wynne had stayed in the room while the interview was proceeding,  
keeping a close eye on his patient. At the first sign that she was not able to continue, he brushed aside the  
detectives' arguments and pushed them out of the room.  
  
Arriving back in the emergency department after the scan, she endured the photographing of the  
bruising to the various parts of arms, legs, torso and head. The worst part was the rape exam. Josh gently  
talked her through it, explaining what he was doing even though he was aware that she knew what was to  
come. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked as she consented to this second violation, a further  
invasion of her privacy, one that would be recorded and, if her attacker was ever brought to justice, would  
become public record.   
  
**********  
  
The door to the exam room opened, and the shaft of light from the brightly lit emergency  
department cut through the darkness and fell on Kerry's face, drawing her reluctantly from her sleep.  
  
"I wondered when I saw the name on the board if it was you." The words were filled with concern.   
"I'm sorry to wake you, but it's time for your neuro check."  
  
Hearing the familiar voice, Kerry opened her eyes and looked across the room from the gurney  
where she lay, at the young doctor standing in the doorway. In her anxiety over not having colleagues from  
former or present hospitals learn of her attack she had forgotten one important matter; Maggie Doyle had  
transferred to Mercy to be their Chief Resident.  
  
When Maggie had handed in her papers for the transfer, she had pointed out that with Robert  
Romano as Chief, she considered her career opportunities at County to be greatly diminished. Kerry had  
wanted to fight for her, but they both knew how it would affect Maggie's future; records of a challenge to  
the leadership of a hospital would be frowned upon.   
  
"Oh, Maggie...." Kerry struggled to push herself up on her elbows, but found there was a  
disturbing array of colourful dots dancing across her vision accompanied by a sense of being on a boat in  
the midst of a storm.  
  
"Dr. Weaver, why don't you lie back and rest?" Maggie suggested, coming across the room and  
touching her gently on her shoulder. The room was shrouded in darkness now that the door was closed,  
and Kerry lay back on the gurney, not needing much encouragement.  
  
Kerry wondered when the dizziness would abate. It had been persistent, even though the CT scan  
had showed no sign of any fracture or intracranial bleed. Her clinical mind knew that the blow to her head,  
while not causing any serious damage, had affected her balance and it would take bed rest to overcome  
the symptoms.   
  
Maggie turned on the fluorescent light above the bed, and Kerry blinked her eyes at the sudden  
brightness. She turned her head sideways to avoid the gleam from the small light strip, which seemed to  
shine directly into her eyes.   
  
"I wanted to talk to you about what happened," Maggie said the words slowly. Normally, she had  
no trouble discussing the issues associated with violent attacks on a patient, advising them, and providing  
them avenues of assistance. But in this case, she was dealing with her former boss, a person who had been  
intimately involved in her training.   
  
"Dr. Weaver...... Kerry.... I would usually discuss the typical responses that you may experience  
as a result of your attack." Maggie watched her former boss carefully, waiting for a reaction. There was  
none, just the steady gaze of gray eyes meeting her own. "I know that you are fully aware of the risks of  
post traumatic stress, and I encourage you to speak to someone about your experience. I can give you  
some names if you like......" Maggie broke off as Kerry turned her head away from Maggie, but not quickly  
enough for Maggie not to see the tears welling in her eyes.  
  
"I know this won't easy, but you can't deny what has happened, and you need to talk to someone  
about what you've been through, whether it be one of the people I have listed here or someone else."  
  
Kerry turned back to face Maggie. "Thanks, Maggie. I appreciate it and I will talk to someone.   
Just not right now. I can't do it right now."  
  
Maggie got up from her seat, moving it back to the wall out of the way. She was about to leave  
when Kerry's soft voice stopped her.  
  
"Maggie, please don't tell anyone about this."  
  
"I understand." Maggie closed the door quietly as she left.  
  
End Part 4 


	5. Chapter 5

PART 5  
  
{November 1, 1999}  
  
The cab pulled up outside Kerry's townhouse in the gloomy late afternoon the following day, and  
she looked up at her brownstone house apprehensively. The garbage can that had been on the sidewalk  
was gone - she assumed one of her neighbours had returned it to its usual position - and the bathrobe-clad  
gathering of curious and concerned neighbours had disappeared. Their interest, which had been piqued  
by the commotion outside their homes the previous night, now dissipated. The quietness of the street was  
disconcerting; it wasn't any different from what she would usually come home to, yet somehow it seemed  
wrong.   
  
"This IS where you wanted to go, isn't it?" asked the battle-worn cab driver. He turned around  
and looked at her, his eyes searching for a clue at her inactivity. The deeply etched lines on his face  
creased more with worry and he began to wonder whether picking up this patient from the hospital had  
been a wise decision. The hospital had already paid for the trip, but the patient's face was extremely pale  
except for the deep purple bruise which extended across her fine features from the small patch of white  
gauze which covered her left temple, and he hoped she wasn't going to pass out on him.  
  
"Yes. Yes it is." Kerry's voice gained strength as she spoke, confidence sparked and flared for  
a moment in her attitude as she gathered up the crutch that Maggie had arranged for her. Maggie had  
taken the time to provide her with not only the crutch, but also with scrubs, shoes, and a warm jacket.   
  
Pushing the door open, Kerry slowly got out of the cab, leaning heavily on her crutch for support.   
While the dizziness had abated, she still felt extremely weary and the headache persevered, the steady  
pulsating pressure sapping her strength. Digging deep into the pocket of the large, navy jacket which  
enveloped her small frame, she located her house keys which had been left for her at the hospital by the  
police together with her purse. The cab left as soon as she was safely on the pavement.   
  
She gingerly made her way up the steps to her home, keeping her head down, and concentrated  
on putting one foot ahead of the other, careful not to miss a step. Kerry winced as the muscles in her legs  
ached at the added strain of climbing the stairs. The detectives had been true to their word; the glass in her  
front door had been replaced and the frame of her door had been fixed. Apparently the police had a  
'clean-up' team available for crimes where a home of a victim had been vandalised.  
  
Kerry's fingers fumbled with the key for the lock, missing the keyhole. She tried again, her fingers  
trembling, and the keys rattled in her hand. The sound of footsteps resounded on the pavement behind her.   
Kerry whipped around to face the street, her heart thumping heavily in her chest, and her breath came in  
short, rasping gasps. A lone female jogger, dressed in blue sweats with earphones in her ears, passed by  
her.   
  
Leaning her head back against the door, Kerry closed her eyes and let out a slow, long breath to  
calm her pounding heart. She was relieved at the innocuousness of the footsteps. With a quick sigh, she  
pushed herself up off the door, and slipped the key into the lock, opening the door on her first try.  
  
Moving inside, Kerry shut the door firmly behind her, locking the door and setting the deadlock,  
before putting the chain in place.. She switched on the hallway light, illuminating the passage that ran the  
full length of her house, before walking through to her living room, where she also turned on the light.   
Dropping her keys and purse down on her desk, she noticed that the red light on her answering machine  
was flashing.   
  
She wasn't sure who could have been ringing. Early this morning, she had contacted Mark and  
let him know that she had had a fall, necessitating a day off work. Mark had been worried, questioning  
her about what had happened and she had brushed off his concern about her health. Reassuring him that  
she'd received the necessary medical treatment, she had finally ended the call, unsure whether she had  
allayed his anxiety.  
  
Right now she didn't want to even contemplate who had left the message and had no intention to  
finding out either. Turning the lights on in the kitchen as she left the room, she went up the stairs to her  
bedroom. Switching on the lights as she entered, she found that the quilt had been removed from her bed,  
taken by the police as evidence she assumed, leaving behind the heavy woollen blanket with its  
imperfections, usually covered by the quilt, exposed for all to see. Approaching the bed, she took off the  
heavy coat and dropped it onto the bed, the house warm from the central heating left on overnight.   
  
Kerry noticed that fingerprint dust lightly covered the bedposts in a couple of places, the cleaners  
having missed several spots on the carved wood. After placing her crutch beside the nightstand, she  
paused, running her hands through her short hair as she took stock of the room. Closing her eyes, she  
dropped her head into her hands, gently kneading her temples with her forefingers to ease the headache,  
as she sought to control the fear that was threatening to overwhelm her.  
  
Taking a deep breath and dropping her hands to her sides, she limped into the bathroom. Turning  
on the hot water faucet, she removed the scrub top and pants while she waited for the water to warm.   
Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she paused to take stock of the damage that had been inflicted the  
previous night.   
  
Her wrists and ankles bore wide lacerations, the areas a faint brownish tinge, having been treated  
with betadine at Mercy Hospital. Heavy bruises marred the smooth skin of both her arms where he had  
obviously grabbed her and a faint discolouration could be seen across her left rib cage which she imagined  
came from when she had fallen at the top of the basement stairs.   
  
The contusions to her face made it hard to recognise as her own, the brusing distorting her features.   
Her right eye had a subconjunctival hemorrhage, the eyelids heavily swollen and only allowing a faint  
measure of her eye to be seen between its puffy lids.   
  
She sighed, telling herself that she was lucky, that it could have been worse, much worse.   
Removing the last of her clothes, she turned on the cold water and tested it before stepping under the warm  
spray. As she stood there, she shivered and turned the heat up several times before she felt an ounce of  
the warmth that was producing a thick, heavy steam that filled the room.  
  
Grabbing the loofah and soap, she methodically began to scrub, starting at her arms and moving  
her way down her body, debriding herself of any trace of HIM; any scent, hair or anything that could be  
remotely attached to his being. She took small comfort in the fact that the rape exam had revealled no  
tearing or sign of him having invaded her body physically as she continued to ruthlessly scour her body,  
ignoring the droplets of blood that broke free from the lacerations on her ankles, and mingled with the  
soapy water swirling down the drain.  
  
She pushed aside the thoughts tumbling around in her mind, forcing herself to concentrate on her  
ministrations. The cake of soap slipped from her fingers to the shower floor, hitting the ground with a dull  
thud. Looking down at the soap, she finally noticed the trickles of blood seeping from her ankles. All the  
efforts to hold in her fears, her tears broke like a dam and mixed with the water. She choked on her tears  
as she sank to the bottom of the shower stall, the spray of water flowing over and around her. Her head  
leaning against the cold, hard wall tiles, she allowed the tears to fall unabated, crying tears of relief that she  
hadn't been raped and tears of pain at the invasion and loss of her privacy.  
  
The water started to cool down and Kerry didn't know how long she'd been sitting on the shower  
stall floor. Her tears had subsided and it penetrated her consciousness that she was cold, goose bumps  
covering her whole body. Pulling herself to her feet with some effort, using the silver aide handle affixed  
to the wall, she found that the muscles in her legs had stiffened from her time on the wet floor. She turned  
off the taps and carefully stepped out of the shower, painfully aware of all her joints and muscles, the  
purpose of the shower to relieve tension destroyed by her crying bout.  
  
Digging through her pyjama drawer, she cast aside the light-weight shirts and attractive negligees  
in favour of a flannelette pyjama top and pants. Slipping them on, she went into the kitchen to make herself  
a drink. She contemplated pouring herself a scotch or just a simple glass of wine, but remembered that  
Josh had given her some medication which contraindicated the consumption of alcohol. Resorting to a cup  
of coffee, Kerry took the easy way out and made it with instant. After living in Africa, she struggled to  
drink it at the best of times, but right now, she couldn't even consider grinding the beans and setting the  
percolator going.  
  
While she was waiting for the water to heat on the stove, she noticed the red light on her answering  
machine still flashing. Moving to the machine, she depressed the button and waited as the tape began with  
the slow whirr of the spools turning.   
  
Kerry didn't recognise the voice initially as the message started, the words holding a chill of their  
own, and as the voice continued, she felt fear take her in her grasp once again, her blood running cold at  
her intruder's words; "Don't think this is the end. I'll be watching you."  
  
End Part 5 


	6. Chapter 6

PART 6  
  
{November 2, 1999}  
  
Kerry parked her car in the disabled parking bay, taking advantage, for a change, of its close  
proximity to the hospital doors. The weather had turned nasty. A fierce wind tore through the parking  
garage, making it difficult to move forward. Kerry went towards the entrance with her head bent against  
the windy onslaught. By the time she was enveloped in the warmth of the hospital, she felt like she had  
run a marathon.  
  
When she entered the hospital, she still didn't raise her head, trying to avoid eye contact with  
other staff, as she moved through the hallways. She knew the natural questions that would arise given  
her physical condition. The less she had to say about it, the better she would cope with her day.   
  
Kerry had almost managed to make it to the emergency department when a familiar voice  
stopped her.  
  
"Kerry? What happened?" Donald Anspaugh backtracked his steps until he was next to her.   
When he first passed by her, he'd given her a quick hello, and it took a few moments for him to register  
the injury to her face.  
  
"Ah, Donald, I had an argument with some basement stairs." Kerry tried to give a smile to  
accompany her joke, a joke that she'd rehearsed several times that morning, ready for the onslaught of  
questions sure to ensue.  
  
"You've had it all checked out, I take it?" Donald asked, squinting behind his glasses as he  
checked out her injury at a distance. He admired the feisty Chief of the Emergency Room, but he also  
wasn't about to overstep the bounds of his working relationship with her without being asked.  
  
"Yes, Donald. I've had x-rays and stitches. It looks worse than it is." Kerry was short and  
curt, trying to curb the conversation as much as possible.  
  
"Make sure you don't push yourself too hard," Donald recommended as he left her to continue  
to the ER.  
  
Moving through the swamped admit area, she took in the gurneys lined up one after another  
along the hallway like carriages in a never-ending train. Patients filled not only the chairs, but also stood  
or sat against any free wall space they could find.   
  
Kerry fought her way through the crowd around to the admit desk, undoing her coat and scarf  
as she observed the board. "What's the story, Randi? A major pile-up?"  
  
"No, the Mayor's presidential dinner last night." Randi looked up from the magazine she was  
reading. "But they all look a hell of a lot better than you do. Are you sure we shouldn't put your name  
up on the board?"  
  
"It looks worse than it is," Kerry told her with a wry smile. She could handle Randi's attitude,  
a mixture of concern and humour, over any fussing and pandering over her. "I'll just put these away,"  
Kerry said, indicating her bag and coat. "I hope we have all our on-call staff here with this inundation  
of patients?"  
  
"Malucci is experiencing the joys of projectile vomiting. I think he's into his third set of scrubs  
already. Haleh also called in Conni and Yosh to assist."  
  
There was no one else in the doctor's lounge. Kerry went across to her locker, and placed her  
coat, scarf and briefcase inside. She slowly eased each of her arms into her lab coat, and the bruised  
muscles across her ribs caused her to catch her breath and restricted her movements. For a moment,  
she contemplated whether she should have come in today, but the thought of staying at home had held  
no appeal.   
  
"Dr. Weaver, we've got a trauma coming in," Haleh told her, a trauma gown and gloves held  
out for Kerry to use. Haleh kept silent about the bruise to Kerry's face, her dark eyes absorbing every  
detail of the injury, or as much of it as she could see before it disappeared beneath the small white  
gauze covering her stitches. It didn't need the gauze, but when Kerry had removed it that morning, she  
could clearly see what had caused the injury and she had immediately replaced it with another piece of  
gauze.  
  
"What have we got?"  
  
"Two MVAs; one major, one minor. ETA two minutes."   
  
"Thanks, Haleh. I'll be there in a moment."  
  
Haleh placed the gloves and gown on the counter in front of the coffee maker, observing her  
boss curiously before leaving the room. Kerry looked at the items, willing her body to muster the  
energy to meet the stream of patients that were going to keep her busy well into that evening.   
  
*********  
  
Wearily, Kerry entered the lounge and reached up for her coffee mug from the shelf above the  
sink, wincing at the small twinge of pain from her ribcage. Picking up the coffee pot, she poured herself  
a strong, straight black. It was only three hours into her shift, yet she felt as if she had completed a long  
twelve hours.   
  
Moving to the desk at the window, she sank down gratefully into the wooden seat, relief  
instantly coming to the various bruised areas of her body. Cupping her hands around the mug, she  
enjoyed the warmth seeping into her hands, and breathed in the aroma. It was typical hospital coffee  
with a bland taste, but it served the purpose of a much needed stimulant.  
  
Putting the coffee mug back down on the desk, Kerry grabbed the yellow pages directory and  
she searched through the thick book until she found what she was looking for; security alarm systems  
and security doors. Looking through the selection of advertisements, she chose a company which  
covered all the areas she had thought of that needed securing. Kerry dialed the number, discussed  
what she needed with the sales representative and booked the company to have everything installed the  
following day without a single question about the cost.   
  
She placed the phone back down on the handset, feeling relieved that she had managed to  
organise all the additional security features for her home with such ease. In hindsight, Kerry wondered  
why she had never installed at least a security door on both her front and back doors. In this day and  
age of home invasions, it surprised her that she had never even considered this.  
  
Taking a sip of her coffee, she enjoyed the liquid as it slid down her throat, the warmth  
gradually spreading through her body and revitalizing her.   
  
"Hey, Dr. Weaver," Carter greeted her as he entered the lounge.  
  
"Hi, Carter." Kerry deliberately kept the greeting formal, not wishing to break down any  
barrier of defence that she had managed to build around her personal life.  
  
"How are you? Dr. Greene told me that you fell down the basement stairs." Carter had been  
surprised when Mark told him of the fall. In all the time he had lived with her, she had never suffered  
any sort of injury, even though she had a habit of not using her crutch at home. Carter poured himself a  
cup of coffee and sat down at the table.   
  
"A few bruises; no breaks thankfully."  
  
"What caused you to fall?" Carter asked quizzically.  
  
This was a question that Kerry hadn't anticipated. She said the first thing that came to mind.   
"One of the boards is loose."   
  
"I'll come and fix it for you after work tonight," Carter offered with concern.   
  
"It's already been fixed, Carter. I had the handyman come yesterday while I was off work."   
Kerry wondered when she had become so adept at lying. They just kept rolling off her tongue and she  
knew from past experience that once you started they just kept snowballing and getting larger. She felt  
guilty about lying to Carter, knowing that he was only concerned about her well-being.  
  
"I'm glad to hear that," Carter said.   
  
"I'd better get back to seeing patients. It's busy today," Kerry commented nervously, picking  
up her coffee cup and tipping out the lukewarm remnants in the sink. She wanted to escape the  
penetrating deep brown eyes that were watching her intently, and her words had the opposite effect.   
Instead of escaping his presence, she found Carter following her out the door, his coffee mug in his  
hand.  
  
End Part 6 


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7  
  
Each minute seemed to drag by slowly before another hour ticked over on the clock. Kerry  
found herself clock-watching, wishing the hands would spin around the dial to end the day. The longer  
she looked and watched, the slower the hands of time appeared to move.   
  
By the time one o'clock came, Kerry went thankfully into the lounge in the hope of having a half  
hour to herself. Usually she would take a moment to quickly grad a cup of coffee and a bite to eat  
while completing administrative work, but today she couldn't concentrate on the ER.  
  
Her hopes of finding refuge in the lounge were dashed. It was already occupied by a couple of  
med students, cramming on their lunch hour, and a few nurses taking a short coffee break. Collecting  
her purse from her locker, Kerry escaped the room, which seemed to be shrink even as she stood in it.   
  
Debating her choices between the cafeteria and Doc Magoos, she decided upon the latter,  
where there would be fewer staff . As she walked out into the cold afternoon air, she wished she had  
grabbed her coat from her locker. Kerry moved rapidly across to the brightly lit restaurant. A  
gentleman leaving Magoos held the door open for her, and she gave him a word of thanks as she went  
inside. She gave her order to the girl at the counter before finding a seat in the far corner.  
  
Placing her crutch against the wall, Kerry sat down, relieved not to have to think about anything  
for a moment. Music filled the restaurant; it was at a level which was tolerable, and the particular song  
playing at the moment didn't grate on her nerves. Leaning her elbows on the table, she cupped her head  
in her hands and closed her eyes while waiting for her lunch to arrive. Kerry felt the tension easing in  
her neck muscles, and she rotated her head, stretching them further.   
  
A hand on her shoulder caused her to jump, and swivel her head around to find out who it was.  
  
"Kerry, I'm sorry to startle you," Jeanie apologised as she pulled out the seat opposite from  
her with Carlos sitting on her lap.   
  
"It's about time someone began paying me back for all the times I've startled them." Kerry  
always found it easy to joke with Jeanie.  
  
"Mark told me you were over here. He also told me about that." Jeanie indicated at the white  
gauze with her dark brown eyes, concern flooding them, as she handed Carlos his key rattle and he  
began shaking the toy with delight, distracting them both.  
  
"It's nothing."  
  
"You can't fool me, Kerry Weaver. I know you too well."  
  
"That's what I was afraid of," Kerry answered, hoping that Jeanie wasn't able to discern the  
truth of what had caused her injury. "That's enough about this," she said pointing to the gauze. "What  
brings you here?"  
  
"Carlos had an appointment at the HIV clinic."  
  
"Is everything all right?" Kerry picked up his key rattle from the table and shook it in front of  
his waving hands. He gurgled and giggled, his eyes dancing with delight.   
  
"Yes, I think so. They just took some blood tests. I'll get the results tomorrow. He's been  
healthy with no colds, so his count should be fine."  
  
"He looks very happy and so do you. Marriage and motherhood suits you."  
  
"I would never have believed I could be so happy." Jeanie fell silent, watching her friend play  
with her foster child. She hesitated, before she spoke. "Kerry, should you really be at work today?   
You are still hurt from your fall - I can tell."  
  
Kerry gave her a wry smile. "Jeanie, I could have stayed home today, but when I came back  
to work there'd be so much more paperwork to do."   
  
"Haleh told me you have worked on a couple of traumas this morning as well as seeing patients.   
I don't call that taking it easy."  
  
"Were you checking up on me?" Kerry's hand with the rattle stilled. She was disconcerted that  
she was the topic of conversation in the ER.   
  
"Kerry, they are your co-workers. They are concerned about you." Jeanie placated Kerry.   
"Have you taken a look at yourself in the mirror this morning?"   
  
"I avoided it as much as possible."  
  
"Kerry, you may be able to convince everyone else that you are not hurting, but you can't with  
me. Go home. Take the paperwork with you. At least that way you won't have the added burden of  
having to participate in trauma cases."  
  
"I'll think about it."   
  
Jeanie knew better than to push Kerry any further. It would only result in her becoming  
adamant that she needed to stay and prove her mettle. "Are you having lunch?"  
  
"Yeah. I placed my order when I walked in. Soup and coffee. I don't know what's taking so  
long."  
  
"We'll join you. If you take Carlos, I'll just go and check on your soup and place our order."  
  
Kerry put out her hands for the youngster and took him, standing him up on her knees as he  
pushed up and down with his all his strength in his wobbly, chubby legs.  
  
*****************  
ER DEPARTMENT  
*****************  
  
Kerry shivered as she went back into the ER, the warmth of the department enveloping her  
before being quickly dispelled as she noticed the man standing at the admit desk. Her heart went cold  
and her anger flared that he had invaded her work place.   
  
"Dr. Weaver's just walked in," Randi informed him with a snap of her gum and watched with  
interest.  
  
Jack Daniels turned around to face Kerry. He was out of uniform, dressed casually in a pair of  
trousers and thick woollen sweater, which accentuated his broad shoulders. He had a brown bomber  
jacket slung over his right arm.   
  
The sheer shock of seeing him here, where she had pointedly avoided any mention of her  
attack, held Kerry frozen, unable to move or say anything.   
  
"Dr. Weaver, I came to see you about that personal problem *I* have. Can you spare a few  
moments?" Jack tried to make his reasons for seeing Kerry sound as if it was a medical rather than a  
police matter.   
  
His words broke through Kerry's immobility, and she gave a quick nod. "Randi, any exam  
rooms free?"  
  
"The isolation room is free. Everything else is full."  
  
"Follow me."  
  
"Should I put his name on the board, Dr. Weaver?" Randi asked slyly. She had noticed the  
look passing between the two of them and suspected it wasn't really a medical case after all.   
Curiosity was getting the better of her, and she missed Jerry being around. They would have had a  
great time this morning, coming up with explanations for Dr. Weaver's injuries. He wouldn't have been  
satisfied with her explanation at all.  
  
"No. It won't take much more than five minutes."  
  
"Take all the time you need, Dr. Weaver." Randi added with a grin, turning away and missing  
the glare Kerry aimed at her.  
  
Kerry led the way down the hall to the isolation room, her crutch hitting the floor in sharp,  
vicious, uneven strokes. After Jack entered the room, Kerry slammed the door and turned on the burly  
officer. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"I would have contacted you at home except your telephone number has been changed," he  
answered evenly.  
  
"I was going to let you know. I just haven't had a chance. I've been busy, if you hadn't  
noticed from the amount of patients waiting." Kerry flung her arm up, accentuating her point.   
  
"Why did you change the number?"  
  
"Because he knows it and I'm not about to have him calling me whenever he likes." Kerry  
paced away from Jack, avoiding looking directly at him. He had seen her vulnerable already, and she  
wasn't about to let him witness it twice.  
  
"We could have put a phone tap on it," he commented logically. "At least, it might have given  
us a chance to trace him."  
  
"I didn't think about that. I just wanted to stop him from calling me." Kerry stopped by the  
gurney and plucked away a small bit of fluff from the sheets.  
  
Jack stopped for a moment and thought. "You never mentioned that he had called you before.   
Has he called you since the attack?"  
  
Kerry turned to face him. "He had my number and he used it. I didn't actually speak to him.   
He left a message on my answering machine. I brought the tape in to work because I was going to stop  
off at your office on the way home and let you know. I'll get it for you."  
  
"Dr. Weaver..... Kerry. I would like you to come down to the station to give a full report on  
this call. I'd also like to see if you could give a description to the sketch artist of this character."  
  
Kerry felt bone weary. His request seemed to sap the last remaining energy out of her body.   
Her hand was on the door handle to leave. She turned back to face him. "I'll just make arrangements  
to finish for the day and come down to the station. Look, I haven't told anyone at work about this, so  
please don't mention it."  
  
Jack nodded. It wasn't an unusual request. People had their right to privacy and if that's what  
she was choosing to do, who was he to argue. He followed her back to the admit desk.  
  
"Randi, where's Dr. Greene?"  
  
"In the lounge."  
  
Kerry proceeded to the lounge, telling Jack to wait in chairs with the other patients. "Mark.   
I'm afraid I'm going to have to finish for the day. Do you think you will be able to cover my shift?"  
  
"Kerry, go on home. You look terrible." Mark commented around his tuna salad., pieces  
falling from his fork back into the plastic container. "I think you are scaring most of the patients away  
anyway."  
  
"Thanks, Mark. You really know how to make someone feel good," Kerry responded  
sarcastically. She might not feel good or look too healthy, but sometimes she didn't need to hear the  
confirmation from all her colleagues.  
  
"Kerry, I didn't mean it in that way. Oh, hell...."  
  
"Mark, I'm joking. I know I look like the living dead. I'm going to go home and wallow in a  
bit of self-pity. Thanks for taking over." Kerry slipped out of her lab coat and into her warm woollen  
coat. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she left the lounge without a backward glance.   
  
"Where are you parked?" Jack asked.  
  
"In the hospital parking lot."  
  
"I'll walk you."  
  
Kerry didn't even bother to argue with him.   
  
Randi's eyebrows raised a couple of notches as she watched the couple leave the ER  
department. This was something new and interesting - the grapevine was going to be heavy with ripe  
gossip for the next few days.  
  
End Part 7 


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8  
  
{November 3, 1999}  
  
The doorbell rang, interrupting Kerry's ministrations. She had been changing the dressing on  
the cut above her eye, allowing the wound to breathe before covering it once again. Moving down the  
stairs apprehensively, Kerry pressed the intercom in the hallway. Her voice wavered as she asked,  
"Who's there?"  
  
"John Carter."  
  
Kerry was taken aback at the sound of his voice, as surprised as she was the first time he had  
arrived on her doorstep over twelve months ago seeking to rent her basement. It seemed like an  
eternity since that time. She unlocked the deadlock on the internal wooden door, it's glass now  
repaired, finding Carter looking about the porch.  
  
"You've made some changes," he stated matter-of-factly. Carter's face clearly showed his  
surprise at the alterations. As he mentioned them, Kerry looked at the differences with new eyes and  
realised that she had made some pretty radical changes - the outer, heavy steel security door with its  
double barrel locks, automatic lighting and a small camera in the corner, which wasn't in working order  
yet.   
  
"I decided not to get another boarder after you moved out, so I took a few extra precautions."   
Kerry unlocked the security door, the double barrel lock clicking open loudly.  
  
"When you left early yesterday and didn't come in today, I was worried. I tried to call and  
check how you were, but your number had been disconnected....." Carter trailed off as he entered the  
hallway.   
  
"Ah, yeah, well.... I was having troubles with crank calls, so I changed it. I logged it into the  
personnel files and all backup databases at the hospital yesterday." Kerry wondered whether in her  
dazed state that she had dreamed going through the motions of putting her new number in the records.  
  
"I didn't check since I know...... knew your number by heart." Carter undid his coat, moving  
comfortably into the living room and hanging his coat on the coat stand.   
  
Kerry followed him reluctantly, muttering to herself under her breath. Naturally Carter  
wouldn't need to check the number; he had lived with her for almost twelve months. She was  
disconcerted by the fact that he was making himself at home - she wanted to be on her own, not have  
to put herself out to entertain a guest.  
  
As she entered the room, Carter turned and faced her, his dark eyes searching her face. Kerry  
lost a sense of reality under his scrutiny; the gentleness held there a stark contrast to the raw menace in  
the eyes of her stalker as his gaze had stripped her body only days before.   
  
"Kerry?" Carter gently touched her arm, his voice heavy with concern.  
  
"What?" Kerry jumped at the touch of his hand, her body instantly pulling away from the  
contact.  
  
"Are you sure you're okay? You seemed to space out for a moment there." Carter sounded  
concerned. "That's a pretty nasty cut above your eye. What was the doctor's verdict?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's pretty good stitching to the cut."  
  
"It should be. Maggie Doyle did it."  
  
"Maggie? Isn't she at Mercy?"  
  
"She is. Mr. Winters decided to take me to Mercy; I wasn't about to contradict him." Kerry  
was amazed at how easily the lies were flowing off her tongue. She remembered being told once that  
lies tended to be more believable with a grain a truth in them - not that she was deliberately lying to  
Carter, it was just happening.   
  
"So what was Maggie's verdict?"  
  
"Concussion. That's why I didn't work on Monday."   
  
"I'm glad to see you took her advice. It looks like you definitely needed today off as well."  
  
Kerry twisted her mouth as she thought that she didn't have much choice in that matter. With  
the workman installing all the security equipment in her house, she had needed to be home. There was  
no way she would have been able to think clearly the morning she arrived home from hospital.  
  
"I'm just tired, Carter. I was just changing the dressing before heading off to bed."   
  
"How about if I do that for you?"  
  
"What - go to bed?" Kerry tried to throw him off assisting her by diverting his attention from  
fixing the wound on her head.  
  
"Ha, ha. You know what I mean."  
  
"I can do it myself."  
  
"Yes, but I'm offering. It'd be much easier for you if you don't have to reach up. I noticed that  
you must have bruised your ribs as well in the fall."  
  
"What?" Kerry was stunned for a moment before she remembered that she had concocted a  
story containing the essential elements of truth necessary.  
  
"I wasn't keeping tabs on you. I happened to notice that you seemed to have trouble with them  
a couple of times today." Carter tried to cover his blunder. He had been keeping an eye on her, but he  
didn't need Kerry being aware of it.  
  
Kerry realised that she had misconstrued the intent of his words. They were not referring to her  
run-in with her stalker but the fall she herself had created to cover the truth of her injuries. This was the  
problem with lying, it was sometimes difficult to separate the truth from the lies. She felt the room sway  
before her eyes and caught hold of the door jam to steady herself.  
  
"Kerry, sit down before you fall down."   
  
For a change, she didn't argue with him. Right now, she didn't have enough energy to put up a  
fight with a feather.   
  
"I'll just go get the gauze. Still in the bathroom cabinet?"  
  
"It was. It's already out on the counter."  
  
Carter was gone before the words had left her mouth. Kerry closed her eyes and felt like she  
had just been run over by a steamroller. When Carter was determined to do something, he made sure  
he followed through; arguments were easily swayed by his charm or his dogged persistence. While  
Kerry appreciated his concern, she felt that it was unwarranted. She was perfectly capable of tending  
to her injuries on her own.  
  
"Kerry, I've found the gauze, scissors and tape. I turned off all the lights upstairs. Is there any  
reason why they were all on?" Carter was surprised at the way the house had all the lights switched on.   
It was only after he had been upstairs, that he had realised that Kerry also had all the lights on  
downstairs as well. It was very un-Kerry-like, she was fastidious about conserving energy - or at least  
about keeping her electricity bill down.  
  
"Oh, I was searching for something and I must have forgotten to switch off the lights."  
  
Carter pulled a stool up in front of the kitchen counter, indicating for Kerry to have a seat. The  
quality of lighting was better in the kitchen and it would give him easier access to the wound. As she  
settled herself up onto the stool, avoiding his proffered hand, he caught her off guard with his question;  
"Did you find it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"What you were searching for?"  
  
"Oh, no. Not yet."  
  
"Do you want me to help you look?"  
  
"No. It's not urgent. I'm sure it'll turn up."  
  
Carter finally gave up his attempts at conversation with Kerry, finding that it was an exercise in  
futility. Not that she wasn't answering his questions - she was. It was the way that she was answering  
that had him puzzled. When he had lived with Kerry, he had only found a couple of times when she  
was evasive and distracted the way she was tonight. The one he could recall clearly was the night she  
had told him that she was adopted. At that time, she had been quick with her answers and avoided  
looking at him directly, much like she was doing tonight. Except that time, she didn't hold anything  
back as he suspected she was doing right now.  
  
It concerned him. But he also knew that Kerry valued her privacy. He would have to wait until  
she was ready to tell him in her own time - if she ever did. Kerry wasn't one to air her problems out in  
public, especially if they were related to her disability.   
  
Carter finished putting on the gauze. "There you go. All done." He turned his back on her as  
he cleaned up the kitchen counter, placing the scissors, roll of gauze and tape on the stool. He caught  
her reflection in the countertop as he wiped it down. It startled him to see how small and fragile she  
appeared, the pensive way she fingered the dressing and the lost look in her eyes. Carter looked up to  
watch her directly, wondering if he was imagining it. For a moment, he caught sight of what he'd seen  
in her mirror image in the counter before it disappeared the second she realised he had looked up.  
  
"Carter, I'm wanting to get an early night....."   
  
"Uh, yeah. I'll be going. Have a good night's sleep and I'll see you tomorrow." Carter took  
his coat off the stand and slipped his arms into the soft cashmere.   
  
Kerry accompanied him to the door and released the deadlock on the wooden door before  
unlocking the security door.  
  
"Kerry, do me a favour and make sure you always leave the keys in the locks. These are  
dangerous in fires."   
  
"The locksmith already warned me of that," she informed him as she reset the lock on the steel  
wire door after he stepped out onto the porch. The sensor light switched on as soon as he came within  
its border, illuminating the area brightly.  
  
Kerry watched Carter get into his car. She waited for him to start it and drive away before  
closing the wooden door. Going back to the kitchen, she collected the medical paraphernalia Carter  
had left on the stool before heading upstairs. As she passed by each room, she turned on all the light  
switches and the rooms were once more brightly illuminated, removing the darkness and mystery they  
had contained moments before.   
  
From outside, a shadowy figure watched as the house came alive, lights flickering in all  
windows behind closed curtains.   
  
End Part 8 


	9. Chapter 9

PART 9  
  
{November 10, 1999}  
  
The room still had an acrid smell to it even though the gas explosion had occurred nearly two  
weeks ago. Memories of the sudden explosion were fading fast - Malucci was already reverting to his  
sloppy work habits and Mark's hearing had returned to normal. The antiseptic smell of bleach tinged  
with the faint acerbic odour of smoke continued to permeate the room, but it was a welcome alternative  
to the noise she had been putting up with for the last two hours. Kerry had given up on trying to do her  
paperwork in the lounge or at the desk. For all the spaciousness out at the main desk, the amount of  
traffic moving through it only served to increase in her a sense of claustophobia. The small staccato  
beat in her left temple had increased to that of a full blown bass drum within an hour of her arrival.  
  
A pile of charts for review sat in front of her and she rubbed her eyes once more to try and  
distinguish what Dave Malucci had written. Kerry gritted her teeth as she finally deciphered his chicken  
scratchings and decided that she'd set him the task of practising his writing skills the next time she saw  
him. Now that she was able to go past Malucci's troublesome syncope patient's chart, which had her  
stumped for close to five minutes, she began to make her way through the other charts.   
  
Chart review was normally an easy job for her, yet she found that she wasn't able to  
concentrate. Her mind kept wandering and she had to remind herself to focus. There was a budgetary  
meeting in less than an hour and she wanted these done before then.  
  
In the background, Kerry could hear the sounds of the ER. Trauma had been light that day  
with only the usual run of the mill type of cases, easily handled by the residents and interns. It made it  
easier for her to take time out and catch up on her paperwork. She couldn't understand why she was  
behind. Even on her worst days, she had always managed to handle her caseload combined with the  
administrative responsibilities. Granted, there had been times when she had only managed to pull  
everything together but nothing like the feeling she was experiencing at the moment of constantly being  
one step behind.  
  
Kerry jumped when the pager on her coat beeped, the sound breaking through the silence in  
the room like a siren. Looking at the pager, she recognised the number on the digital display. Kerry  
wondered why Romano would be paging her now - until she looked at her watch and realised she was  
fifteen minutes late for the meeting.  
  
She quickly gathered up the charts into her arms, leaped to her feet and slipped her right arm  
into the familiar crutch resting against the chair. Her anxiety at being late had her moving down the  
hallway at a clipped pace, her mind churning over how time had just disappeared without her noticing;  
chart review still wasn't finished and she was late.   
  
Rushing down the hallway, concentrating on putting one foot ahead of the other, the beat of her  
feet hitting the floor matching the pounding in her head, Kerry missed seeing the third year med student  
come out of the exam room. They collided dramatically. Urine and blood samples flew through the air,  
hitting the wall and leaving colourful fingers of red and yellow dripping down the cream walls; charts slid  
down the hallway, stopping haphazardly at irregular intervals like stepping stones.  
  
Kerry gave an anguished yelp of pain, clutching her ribs protectively. The young med student  
looked at her mortified and waited in silent fear. Kerry felt the rush of anger rise like the bitter taste of  
bile. She swallowed, trying to bite back her annoyance at the collision, but her barbed words surged  
forth. The hall quickly cleared of any staff members that didn't need to be there; they didn't want to be  
caught up in the waves of wrath rolling over.   
  
"Kerry, what's the problem?" Mark's calm, even voice broke through her tirade. He took in  
the med student with large tears rolling down her face, struggling to try and weather the storm of  
Kerry's temper. Mark indicated for the student to go and she scurried off to the nearest toilet to regain  
her composure.   
  
"I'm late for a meeting." Kerry looked up at him, his lean figure towering over her as she  
struggled to pick up the charts from the floor.   
  
"That's not the med student's fault, Kerry."  
  
"No but the fact that I'm even later is. Look at the walls!" Mark took in the dripping fingers of  
blood and urine samples creeping in slow trails down the wall. "And even the charts, they're covered  
in blood and urine."  
  
"There's only a couple of spots on them, Kerry. It's nothing to worry about." Mark bent down  
and helped her pick up the charts, quickly gathering them into a pile.  
  
"Nothing to worry about! You don't know what the patient has."  
  
Mark was surprised at the way Kerry was reacting to such a simple accident. She was  
blowing the incident totally out of proportion. It wasn't as if this sort of thing hadn't occurred before.   
The last week had been rather tedious with Kerry being irritable and exploding in anger at the slightest  
mistake.   
He rose to his feet, offering his hand to Kerry to help her up. She ignored it, pulling herself up  
expertly on her crutch and wincing at the twinge of pain through her ribs.   
  
"Kerry, what's wrong?" Mark had been watching her carefully, assessing her unusual  
behaviour. He was concerned at the way she had been acting this last week. She had seemed to be  
perpetually at the hospital outside her scheduled hours, working on administrative matters of one sort or  
another and it was taking its toll. Her eyes had taken on a haunted look; at least the eye that she could  
clearly see through. Her left eye, injured in the fall last week, was slowly healing, yet her right eye  
seemed to be matching the left one in appearance with a deep, dark blue-black smudge growing in  
depth each day.   
  
"Nothing. I just had the wind knocked out of me when we collided."  
  
"I want to check you out, you seem more than just winded."  
  
A pager went off. Both of them looked down at their coat pockets to see whose it was. "It's  
mine. Romano's chasing me. I'd better get going. Could you put these in the lounge for me to finish?"   
Kerry handed over the few charts she had retrieved from the floor.  
  
"Sure, but Kerry......" Mark trailed off as she disappeared down the hall, heading towards the  
elevators.  
  
*************  
  
"Dr. Weaver, very nice of you to bless us with your presence," Romano commented  
sardonically as she entered the conference room. "An urgent trauma case again?"  
  
Kerry didn't bother to dignify him with a response, sitting down in the last seat available at the  
conference table. Sinking into the seat, Kerry struggled to get her breath, the sound rasping and loud in  
the silence of the conference room. As she calmed herself down, Kerry realised that she had left her  
notes and paperwork down in the ER, paperwork she had stayed at the hospital to complete until the  
early hours of this morning.   
  
Romano conducted the meeting with his usual string of barbs and innuendos, striking at  
unsuspecting staff. Kerry yawned, losing interest in the meeting and her eyes began to feel very heavy.  
  
"Dr. Weaver, we aren't keeping you awake, are we? I don't suppose you've got those figures  
I wanted?"  
  
"Yes, Robert."  
  
"Yes, I am keeping you awake or you have the figures?"  
  
"I've got the figures for you." Kerry rattled them off for him, grateful for her memory and gave  
a small smile of satisfaction when Romano had nothing to come back at her with, the details she  
provided him with fully covering what he sought. His eyes watched her, a saturnine smile plastered  
across his face.  
  
It was the small, beady eyes that caught her and mesmerised her, taking her back to another  
time. They swallowed her soul and drained the colour from her face as she remembered. *He* had  
had small, beady eyes; eyes that had stripped her to the core, taking away all warmth and leaving her  
cold and clammy. She could once again feel his breath against her skin, the headiness of wanton desire  
as he took in her virtually naked body.   
  
"Kerry, are you okay?" Elizabeth's soft English lilt broke through the memories. She jumped  
as she felt Elizabeth's touch on her arm at the same time.   
  
"Uh, yes, no....I think I'm going to be sick." Kerry struggled to control the feeling, yet her  
stomach rebelled against her fight to contain it. She scrambled to get her crutch and raced out the door  
to the toilets. Once there she finally gave in to the rolling waves of nausea, emptying the contents of her  
stomach rather dramatically. Her stomach was still heaving when a voice broke through the silence in  
the room.  
  
"Kerry?" Elizabeth, concerned about the competent doctor, had followed her. It was unusual  
for Kerry to be late to a meeting and it had now occurred twice in one week. Her loss of colour in the  
conference had worried Elizabeth, the distant look in Kerry's eyes and the clamminess of her skin when  
she had touched her. The aluminum crutch outside the cubicle indicated where Kerry was and  
Elizabeth tentatively pushed the door open.  
  
She found Kerry hunched over the toilet bowl, her face pallid as she looked up at Elizabeth.   
Another wave of nausea hit and Kerry dry-retched, the heaves shaking her slight frame. Kerry could  
hear water running in the background as her stomach twisted and turned once again. A moment later  
she felt wet toweling pressed against the nape of her neck. The coolness was welcome, bringing relief  
to the heat that seemed to be billowing inside her. Kerry sat back, closing her eyes as her nausea  
settled. Another piece of toweling paper came against her forehead, the smell of the damp paper  
bringing her back to awareness.   
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Do you want the truth?" Kerry asked tiredly, a twisted smile coming to her face before it  
disappeared once again.  
  
"I think I can take a guess. Stupid question, I suppose." Elizabeth slid down the wall to sit  
opposite Kerry. "Is your stomach settling down?"  
  
"Only just." Kerry closed her eyes again, her head drooping forward and she put her hand  
against the damp cloth to stop it from falling.  
  
"Are you ill?"  
  
"No. It just hit me all of a sudden."  
  
"You're not pregnant, are you?" Elizabeth asked.  
  
Kerry opened her right eye and looked at Elizabeth to check whether she was serious. Kerry  
gave a half-hearted laugh and replied, "No, I'm not pregnant."  
  
"Just a bit of Romano Ad Nauseum, then?"  
  
"Is that the clinical name for it?"  
  
"Yep, I suffer from it on occasion myself," Elizabeth admitted. "I don't know about you, but I  
am getting awfully cramped sitting like this. Do you think you'll be able to leave the safety of the toilet  
without throwing up everywhere?"  
  
Elizabeth's way of phrasing it had Kerry smiling. "I think my stomach is limiting it to the  
occasional somersault."   
  
"How about I take you to the surgeon's lounge and you can lie down for an hour?" Elizabeth  
asked. She saw Kerry about to dispute her suggestion, and continued, "That wasn't just a suggestion,  
Kerry. Be grateful that I'm not submitting you to a full physical. You look terrible."  
  
"Gee, thanks. That's just what I needed to hear."  
  
"Well, have a rest and maybe I'll change my opinion in an hour." Elizabeth commented dryly as  
she gave Kerry a hand to get up off the floor. She didn't miss Kerry's wince at the pain in her leg and  
ribs. Passing Kerry her crutch, Elizabeth accompanied her out of the toilets and down the hall.  
  
End Part 9 


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10  
  
{November 13, 1999}  
  
Another trauma case came crashing through the emergency room door. Kerry felt her heart  
sink, the thought of having to treat another patient on the brink of life and death sapping the last of her  
energy. It had been a long time since she had felt like this - back in her med school days.   
  
During her fourth year, she had taken on additional hours on top of her already heavy schedule  
and ended up paying the price by being relegated to bed for the next week - doctor's orders. Gabe  
Lawrence's orders. Kerry thought wistfully of her old mentor. She missed him; missed his wit, his  
intelligence and ingenuity. Most of all, she missed that paternal protectiveness he had for her. Tears  
beaded in her eyes just thinking about Gabe.   
  
"Dr. Weaver! We need you in Trauma Two!"  
  
The insistent words jolted her out of her reverie. Willing her lethargic body to respond, she had  
to wait a moment as the room dipped and spun. As her balance returned, she moved towards the  
trauma room and focused on the job at hand - the saving of this young boy's life despite horrific  
injuries. Moving around the exam table, she directed the treatment calling for all the appropriate tests,  
x-rays, and consults. Lucy and Carter were also assisting on the trauma but she found that their voices  
sounded very distant and hollow.   
  
Elizabeth came into the trauma room, as the surgical consult on call, and glanced around the  
room to see who was in on the trauma. It was a habit she had gotten into over the years - Elizabeth  
liked to know who she was working with. As she received the bullet from Lucy, who was much more  
confident than she had been the past year, Elizabeth kept glancing across at Kerry, noting her waxen  
face and the dull, flat eyes.   
  
Ever since she had found Kerry hunched over the toilet bowl a few days ago, Elizabeth had  
kept a close eye on Kerry, her concern now appearing to be well placed. Elizabeth had mentioned her  
concern to Mark and he had told her of Kerry's aggressiveness and impatience over the smallest issue;  
worse than anything he had seen in the past and he wondered if it was the side effects of her cold.   
Kerry had been coughing and sniffling, both gradually worsening. Mark had told her that Kerry had  
never been sick since she had started working at County and had no way of knowing if this was her  
way of dealing with it - eating all med students and residents for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  
  
The bruising to Kerry's face was fading, but she seemed to be fading at almost the same pace.   
Her face was gaunt with dark, heavy streaks of tiredness painted beneath her eyes. The light blue shirt  
hung loosely on pronounced shoulder bones. The pants she was wearing bunched at the waist where  
she had obviously had to do up the belt a couple of notches tighter than usual.  
  
"Kerry, what are you doing working?" Elizabeth asked casually as she examined the child for  
herself, making a quick assessment of his injuries.   
  
Kerry ignored her, going on with her work and allowing Elizabeth to control the direction of the  
trauma; an obvious surgical case. The boy's vital signs turned for the worst and Elizabeth let the matter  
drop for a moment while they worked on saving the patient. Once the boy was stable enough for  
transport to the operating theatre, Elizabeth asked Carter to accompany the boy.   
  
Turning to Lily, Elizabeth asked for Mark to be paged. Lily immediately dialed the number on  
the phone beside the side trauma room door. After she had completed the task, Lily left the room, not  
wishing to witness the fireworks that were sure to ensue.  
  
The staff in the room frowned at the request, wondering why she would be paging Mark at the  
end of the trauma. Elizabeth dismissed the staff from the room, not wishing her tactics to be witnessed  
by many of their co-workers.  
  
"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked forthrightly.  
  
"What do you mean?" Kerry knew exactly what she meant. She hoped that her feigned  
innocence might mean Elizabeth would drop the subject totally.  
  
"Kerry, why are you pushing yourself when you are ill." Elizabeth lowered her voice. "Three  
days ago, I found you hunched over a toilet bowl and I thought you looked bad enough then. You are  
a shadow of that now. You are obviously running a fever - I wouldn't even want to hazard a guess as  
to how high it is. Mark tells me you have been coughing all over the place. I want you to go home."  
  
"What's the problem?" Mark asked. He looked about the trauma room and then switched his  
gaze between Kerry and Elizabeth who were obviously in the midst of an argument, Kerry's fever  
bright eyes giving away her annoyance and anger.  
  
"I was just telling Kerry that she should go home since she is ill."  
  
"I'm fine." The denial sounded lame to Kerry's ears as she broke into a fit of coughing that she  
had been fighting the whole time Elizabeth had been talking with her.  
  
"How about we be the judge of that?" Mark cajoled. "Kerry, let us take your temperature. If  
it's over 101, you are to go home. If it's under, then you can continue."  
  
It was an ultimatum that she was going to lose. Turning sharply on her heel, Kerry had to once  
again wait for the world to settle. She could hear both Mark and Elizabeth's voices in the distance,  
calling out with concern as she struggled to maintain her focus on the room, the edges of which were  
blurred and fading.  
  
Hands caught hold of her arms, startling her and bringing the room back into sharp focus.   
Kerry gave a cry of alarm at the tight hold on her arms, fear gripping her; remembering the last time she  
was held like this. She wanted to fight them, but found that they were much too strong for her.   
  
Her strength sapped and Kerry sank down to the ground, tears flowing freely. She didn't want  
to go home; it no longer provided the safety and comfort the word conveyed. It had danger lurking in  
the shadows and sounds that kept her on edge.   
  
Elizabeth knelt down beside Kerry and pulled her into her arms, gently reassuring her that all  
was okay. She could feel the heat from the fever raging through Kerry's body and just held her. As  
Kerry's sobs calmed down into occasional hiccups, Elizabeth quietly gave Mark, who was standing  
awkwardly watching them, instructions to get a gurney. Mark returned within moments with the gurney  
and Haleh.   
  
"Kerry, how about we get you up on the gurney? It'll be a lot more comfortable than the  
floor," Elizabeth said quietly. She smoothed the damp red hair away from Kerry's forehead.   
  
Kerry gave her a barely perceptible nod. Haleh disengaged her crutch from Kerry's arm  
before the three of them lifted her small form onto the gurney. Once she was on the gurney, Haleh  
took her BP and temperature. Elizabeth checked her breathing while Mark hooked up an IV bag of  
glucose solution. Kerry submitted to the examination, too exhausted to fight what was going on.  
  
"Kerry, your temp is 103 and you're dehydrated. I'm going to rehydrate you with D5."  
  
"I don't want to stay here," Kerry said softly. She couldn't stand the thought of the looks of  
curiosity that the staff would be giving her - the chance that they might discover the truth, the shame of  
what had happened. Of what she'd allowed to happen. Anything was better than avoiding those  
looks, even the quiet fear of her home. "I want to go home."  
  
"After we've rehydrated you, okay," Elizabeth told her, placing a hand on her shoulder to  
reassure Kerry.  
  
"Not too long...." Kerry broke off as another fit of coughing forced her to stop, the spasm  
racking her body. Mark lifted her into an upright position, his arms supporting her.   
  
"Are you sure you should be going home, Kerry?" Elizabeth asked. "You aren't well at all."   
  
"I don't want to stay in the hospital. I've got the flu. Anyone else with my symptoms would be  
sent home. I don't need to stay."  
  
"But you live on your own, Kerry; there's no one to take care of you." Elizabeth tried to  
reason with her.  
  
"I'll be fine."  
  
With the heavy congestion in Kerry's lungs, Mark ordered a broad spectrum antibiotic, starting  
off with an IV push to be followed later by tablets. "Haleh, get a CBC and a sputum sample."   
  
Haleh gave him a hard look, not appreciating the possible argument with the fiery red-head  
should she object to Mark's orders.  
  
Elizabeth caught Mark's eye and the two of them moved over to the corner of the room.   
"Mark, I don't think it's such a good idea that she goes home."  
  
"I don't think we have an option. Kerry's right when she says she's not ill enough to stay here.   
She's got the 'flu. Plenty of people get the 'flu and we send them home without question. I can't force  
her to stay if she doesn't want to."  
  
"But this isn't just anybody; this is Kerry. I'm worried about her, she hasn't been herself  
lately."  
  
Mark nodded in agreement. This past week had been terrible working with Kerry. The mood  
swings and aggressiveness had been tiring; the complaints from nurses, med students and residents had  
almost outstripped the amount of patients he saw each day.  
  
"Mark, I've only got a couple of hours before I finish my shift. If we rehydrate Kerry, I'll get  
Donald to cover me for the operation on the kid I just sent up. I'll take Kerry home and stay with  
her."  
  
**********************  
KERRY'S TOWNHOUSE  
**********************  
  
"Where are your keys?" Elizabeth asked as she pulled her car to a stop a couple of doors up  
from the brown double story townhouse. At this time of day, she had been very lucky to find a car  
space so close to Kerry's house.  
  
"In my handbag." Kerry reached down to her feet to search through the handbag which Mark  
had taken from her locker, while he had put back her stethoscope and lab coat, before they left the  
hospital.   
  
Elizabeth hadn't been immune to the sharp looks that Kerry had been sending in her direction  
as she drove. An uncomfortable silence had pervaded the car, hanging over them like a heavy rain  
cloud. Elizabeth didn't usually back away from an argument, especially when she wanted to get her  
point across. She'd consistently been at loggerheads with her mother over such issues. However, as  
she glanced across at Kerry, she didn't want to provoke any type of conversation that would cause  
Kerry more distress. Something wasn't right with Kerry and hadn't been for a couple of weeks, she  
just didn't know what it was.  
  
The bunch of keys rattled as Kerry pulled them out of her handbag. Elizabeth turned off the  
engine and got out of the car quickly going to the passenger side of the car, ready to help Kerry if she  
needed it.  
  
Kerry twisted her body out of the car and used the door to pull herself up out of the car, leaning  
heavily on her crutch. Elizabeth was hovering a short distance away, ready to help but Kerry was  
determined that she would not need her assistance. She felt a bit unsteady on her feet and moved  
slowly toward her house. Reaching the stairs up to her house, Kerry looked at the seven stairs with  
trepidation. Stairs tested her balance at the best of times, although she had worked out a method many  
years ago which helped combat the problem. But today they were almost too much; they held  
memories of that night when she had put out the garbage too late in the evening and, in doing so, invited  
the stranger into her home.  
  
"Kerry, are you okay?" Elizabeth asked, concern filling her voice.  
  
Kerry didn't trust her voice and nodded.   
  
"Give me your keys and I'll open the door."   
  
Kerry was too tired to argue, the walk from the car already dispelling the small amount of  
energy she had regained during the short time she had laid down on the gurney. She handed Elizabeth  
her keys as well as her handbag, the added weight had been bearing down heavily on her left shoulder.   
  
As Elizabeth reached the top of the stairs, the spotlight came on, illuminating the small entrance  
way with its powerful beam. Opening both the security and internal doors, Elizabeth waited in the  
doorway, holding them ajar for Kerry.  
  
Kerry passed by Elizabeth, heading into the living room when she remembered the alarm  
system; she had walked past the keypad without registering that she needed to input the code.   
Realising that time was running out, she spun around and nearly knocked Elizabeth over in her haste to  
get to the keypad.   
  
"Kerry, what's wrong?" Elizabeth looked into the living room, wondering what had sent Kerry  
racing back towards the front door. She didn't find anything unusual. The cream sofa had a couple of  
pillows and afghan blankets piled on it, which was the only thing that seemed out of place in the neatly,  
ordered room. Elizabeth was about to turn and follow Kerry when a high pitched screech broke  
through the silence. She covered her ears, shrinking away from the shrill sound which seemed to be  
right above her head. A moment later it disappeared, the silence welcome.  
  
"Kerry, what was that?"  
  
"My alarm system. I forgot to turn it off when I came in." Kerry leaned back against the wall,  
trying to catch her breath the short burst of energy   
  
"I think if that thing goes off, any would-be robber will be frozen to the spot in pain." Elizabeth  
was rubbing her ears which were still ringing. "I think I'll need my hearing tested."  
  
"Sorry, Elizabeth. I've only had it installed a couple of weeks ago and I forgot."  
  
"That's okay. How about you sit down?" Elizabeth headed back into the living room, hoping  
that Kerry would follow her. "I'll get you a drink and something to eat."   
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
"Kerry, you have to eat something." Elizabeth moved into the kitchen area, opening the  
refrigerator to look at what Kerry had stored in there. "I know you're not well and it's not unusual to  
not eat a lot but how long is it since you've had a proper meal? You've lost quite a lot of weight  
recently."  
  
Kerry shrugged her shoulders. Food had lost its appeal. She had no interest in cooking, her  
concentration all but gone and her couple of attempts at dinner had ended up in the garbage, an  
unrecognisable blob.   
  
"There's a container of pumpkin soup in the fridge. How about some toast and soup?"  
Elizabeth checked the store-bought container of soup for a use-by date to ensure she wasn't going to  
give Kerry food-poisoning on top of the flu.  
  
Kerry nodded. She moved aside the afghan blankets and sat down. Removing her crutch, she  
rested in against the end of the couch and undid the laces for her shoes. Slipping them off, Kerry laid  
back against the soft pillows at the top of the couch and curled her body comfortably on the cream  
cushions.   
  
She listened to the clattering of cooking utensils in the kitchen, the sounds a welcome change to  
the silence that so often pervaded her home. Kerry tried to concentrate on the different sounds, discern  
what they were, but her eyelids kept drooping before she would start awake again. More and more,  
she found herself fading away, her illness sweeping away her fear and taking her into a deep and  
dreamless sleep.  
  
Elizabeth pottered around in the kitchen, finding a tray to carry the soup, toast and chilled water  
across to Kerry. "Kerry, here's your soup and toast. I gave you..." Elizabeth trailed off as she noticed  
Kerry fast asleep. She took the tray back to the kitchen bench before returning to drop the two afghan  
blankets over Kerry.  
  
Making herself a cup of coffee, Elizabeth sat down and watched Kerry, thinking about her  
discussions with Mark and her own observations.  
  
End Part 10 


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11  
  
Kerry rolled over in her sleep; a sudden jolt of pain in her leg brought her back to awareness.   
She slowly opened her eyes and found the room was dark except for the muted lighting coming from  
the small lamp off to her left on a bedside table. Her eyes adjusted to the soft light and Kerry realised  
that she was in her own bedroom. Looking across at the small bedside clock, she noted that it was  
nearly 10.30 p.m.- on what day, she had no idea. The last thing she remembered was arriving home  
with Elizabeth and lying down on the couch.  
  
An uneasiness filled her as Kerry realised that she wasn't alone. She sensed, more than saw,  
the man sitting there, watching her. Fear flooded through her and she screamed loudly, sitting up  
quickly and pushing the covers back. The man moved out of the wicker chair; the familiar creak of the  
cane chair intensifying her fear. It was a perfect repetition of the night of her attack except this time she  
wasn't tied down. Kerry rolled sideways to her right to avoid meeting the man on the left side of her  
bed. She hit the floor with a bang and grimaced at the shooting pain that ran down her leg.  
  
"Kerry? Kerry, it's John. John Carter." Carter's soft voice broke through the fear. "I'm sorry  
to scare you like that."  
  
"Carter?" Kerry almost didn't recognise her own voice, which was now a raspy croak.   
Kerry's voice wobbled as she said his name, uncertain at what she felt at that moment: relief that it was  
Carter or annoyance that he had seen her fear. "What are you doing here?" She ran her tongue  
around the insides of her mouth and swallowed, hoping to clear the dry, raw feeling in her throat.   
  
"Elizabeth didn't want to leave you on your own and I offered to stay. She needed some  
sleep." Carter reached down and helped Kerry to her feet.  
  
"What day is it?" Kerry wondered how long she had been out of it. She swept away at her  
fringe which was haphazardly falling across her forehead and into her eyes. All of a sudden, she  
noticed that her bladder was near bursting and she scrambled to make it to the toilet.  
  
"Sunday, the fourteenth...." Carter trailed off, his face showing his surprise at her sudden  
departure.   
  
Kerry used the wall to maintain her balance; her usual difficulty with walking was now  
compounded by lightheadedness. She didn't know where they had left her crutch and she didn't want  
to embarrass herself with an accident while asking where it was. As she moved down the hall, she  
realised that she had lost a day to her illness. She sensed Carter following her rather than actually  
seeing him. Moving as fast as she could, Kerry entered the bathroom, slamming the door firmly behind  
her.   
  
Sinking down on the toilet seat gratefully, she put her head in her hands. Her forehead was still  
hot and beads of perspiration trickled across her brow. The short walk from her bedroom to the  
bathroom had exhausted her. Kerry couldn't remember the last time she felt like this. It would be so  
easy to just close her eyes and go back to sleep, even in this uncomfortable and draughty room.  
  
Finishing, she flushed the toilet and washed her hands. The cool feeling of the water rushing  
over her clammy hands was refreshing. Kerry placed the plug in the basin and filled it, dropping her  
small flannel into the water. Squeezing out the excess water, she wiped the flannel across her moist  
forehead. It helped clear her head of the cotton-woolly feeling and she felt refreshed. She sneaked a  
glance in the mirror and quickly looked away.   
  
"Kerry? Dr. Weaver, are you all right?" Carter's muffled voice called out.  
  
Kerry realised that she had been in the bathroom for probably near on ten minutes, more than  
enough time to cause concern. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm coming out now."  
  
Opening the door, Kerry found Carter waiting for her outside, her crutch in his hand. "It was  
downstairs. We forgot it. Sorry."  
  
Kerry just nodded, taking the crutch from him. It wasn't something you thought about unless  
you needed one.   
  
"Would you like something to eat - crackers, ice-cream?"  
  
The thought of ice cream sliding down her raw, scratchy throat was heavenly. "A small bowl of  
ice cream would be good."  
  
"How about you lie down again and I'll bring it up to you?"  
  
Kerry didn't want to go back to her room; the memories of her dream was still vivid in her  
mind. Being alone in her room would only serve to intensify those memories. So she followed him  
down the stairs and sat down on the couch while he went into the kitchen. She disengaged the crutch  
from her arm and dropped it at the foot of the couch. Sinking down against the soft pillows, Kerry  
tucked her legs up and under the warmth of the afghan rug draped over the opposite end of the couch.  
  
"What sort of ice-cream do you want? Double choc fudge or vanilla?" Carter asked holding  
the freezer door wide open while he scanned its contents.  
  
"Vanilla." Kerry couldn't bear the thought of the heavy sweetness of the chocolate fudge ice-  
cream. She had bought it for those rare occasions when she needed a chocolate-fix. It would only  
take one scoop and she was satisfied. "Carter, don't stand there with the freezer door open."  
  
Carter looked up, surprised. Kerry gave him a quick grin. Her reprimand brought back  
memories of when he had lived with her. She hadn't realised how much she had missed having  
someone else in her home, even if it was just to tell them to close the freezer door. There were a lot of  
reprimands she hadn't had to give since he moved out. She suddenly yearned to be able to have him  
here again, leaving the fridge door slightly ajar or leaving the toilet seat up.   
  
Carter shut the freezer door, placing the cold tub of ice cream on the centre island. Kerry  
could hear him opening and closing doors, searching for the crockery. She smiled to herself as she  
heard Carter's frustrated mutter. "Don't break anything, Carter"  
  
"I will try not to if I could find where you've hidden the dishes."  
  
"I haven't hidden them;. I got the urge to change things around in the kitchen," Kerry  
commented with a casual air. More accurately, she had decided to use her sleepless nights to some  
good around the house. "They're in the first cupboard left of the sink."  
  
Carter was surprised, again. But this time it was due to what she had done to the kitchen which  
was out of character for Kerry. She liked to maintain consistency. He recalled how he had tried to  
rearrange the bathroom cabinet and had quickly been told to leave it as he had originally found it.   
Kerry had allocated space for his toiletries where she had wanted them.  
  
He found the dessert bowl he was looking for. As he scooped up two small balls of ice-cream,  
he heard Kerry coughing uncontrollably. Carter watched with concern. He wanted to race over there  
and support her as she raised herself on a shaky arm off the couch, and tried to find a position which  
would relieve the deep ache in her chest from the persistent coughing. He knew better than to fuss but  
he also didn't want to do nothing. The problem was that with Kerry, the line was a very fine one.   
  
Grabbing the cold jug of water from the fridge, he poured a glass of chilled water and brought it  
over to her, just as she finished her bout of coughing and sank back into the soft pillows.   
  
"Thanks, Carter." Her words of thanks were barely perceptible as she took the glass, her voice  
a wispy residuum of the strong and capable woman he had lived with.  
  
Carter went back to the kitchen to get the bowl of ice cream. At the same time, he picked up  
the bottle of tablets that Mark had given him as he had left the hospital.  
  
"Mark got your lab results back. It's Type A. He's prescribed some Symmetrel. Usual  
dosage 200mg per day for ten days." He asked as he returned to stand beside her.  
  
"Carter, I don't need any Symmetrel. It's the simple 'flu. You know that it takes time to work  
it's way through the system." Kerry's hand shook as she held the glass of water, a couple of drops  
spilling over the edge. She rubbed at them ineffectively.  
  
"Yes. That's true. But you also know the benefits of Symmetrel. It'll reduce the duration and  
severity of your symptoms."  
  
"Carter... I can't do this. I can't fight you. I'm too tired." Kerry felt the rush of tears flooding  
her eyes.   
  
Carter took the glass of water from her hands before it spilled again, placing it on the coffee  
table.. He sat down on the edge of the couch and gently asked, "Do you have to fight me?"   
  
Kerry shook her head. She didn't want to argue with him. But for the last few weeks, it had  
seemed like she was constantly fighting - fighting to keep up with paperwork, fighting to keep control of  
the ER, fighting to regain her life which seemed to be spinning out of control.   
  
"Kerry, we're.... I'm only trying to help you. You know that taking Symmetrel will relieve your  
symptoms." Carter remembered the way Kerry had woken, the sheer terror that had filled her face.   
"Unless there's some contraindication for you taking it?"  
  
"No. No, there's not."   
  
Watching Kerry, Carter thought about her behaviour over the last couple of weeks. There  
were obvious signs that Kerry was having trouble sleeping. The deep ridges of blue-black beneath her  
eyes were a good indicator, confirmed today by the nightmare he had witnessed. It left him wondering  
what had triggered off the nightmares. In all the time he had lived with her, he had not known Kerry to  
suffer from nightmares.   
  
{November 15, 1999}  
  
Lying on the comfortable couch, which had been turned into her bed over the past couple of  
weeks, Kerry dozed fitfully. Visions of a dark featureless figure moving towards her assailed her  
dreams. His large calloused hands stretched out before him and his feet slowly moved the hulking  
shape closer to her. Her breath caught in her throat as he got closer and closer, so close that she could  
almost feel his breath play against the sensitive skin of her face. She forced herself to look up at the  
face and she screamed.   
  
Her eyes flew open at the sound, dragging her out of her nightmare. Taking in the familiar  
surroundings of her living room, the soft lighting from the wall lights chasing away shadows, she calmed  
her ragged breathing. It sounded as if she had just run a marathon rather than awoken from a troubled  
sleep.  
  
The doorbell rang. Kerry looked up at the clock and wondered who would be visiting at four  
o'clock in the afternoon. She quickly pushed herself up into a sitting position, then grabbed the edge of  
the sofa when the room began to spin and dip. An interesting array of colours flashed across her eyes  
before the room settled back to its normal position. The doorbell rang again and she moved slowly to  
answer it, leaning heavily on her crutch for support. A quick look at the small black and white monitor  
revealled that it was Jeanie, laden with a couple of bags.  
  
Opening the inner door, she greeted Jeanie with a smile. She had forgotten that Jeanie had  
offered to pick up some groceries for her when she telephoned that morning. "Hey, Jeanie."  
  
"Hey, Kerry. How are you doing?" Jeanie returned her friendly smile with one of her own as  
Kerry struggled to undo the locks to the security door.  
  
"Much better."  
  
"See what a few days of bed rest will do for you." Jeanie hoisted the bags of groceries back up  
onto her hips for balance and entered the house, moving towards the living room.  
  
"Even if it is forced." Kerry commented to her as she locked the doors again, but not before  
taking a look outside to ensure there were no intruders lurking around.  
  
"They were only doing what was best for you," Jeanie responded as she put the two bags of  
groceries on the kitchen table.  
  
"I know," Kerry said as she entered the room. Her voice was still croaky, but not as painful  
and scratchy as it had been the past few days. Her mouth was dry and she picked up the glass of  
lukewarm water that had been sitting on the coffee table and took a sip. "I'll put away the groceries,"  
she said as Jeanie began pulling out the various items she had bought.  
  
"No you won't. I want you to sit down and don't even try to start helping." Jeanie put the  
carton of milk and bottle of tomato juice into the refrigerator. "They all care about you," Jeanie said  
referring back to their previous discussion.  
  
"That's a debate. I don't think Mark will ever forgive me for what happened with Romano.   
That day I'd reckon that he'd have used me for target practice." She referred to the incident earlier in  
the year when she had shafted Mark in the conference room over Romano's appointment. He hadn't  
seen it from her point of view and she understood the anger emanating from him. Her decision had  
made Mark wary of her and derisive of her decisions, and the staff had been his backers, supporting his  
stand against Romano. Kerry moved into the kitchen area and pulled herself up onto one of the stools,  
watching as Jeanie put away the groceries.   
  
"Am I hearing this correctly? This is Kerry Weaver I'm talking to and not an imposter?"  
  
"Yep, you've got her all right. Depressed and downright miserable." Kerry rested her head in  
her hand, her elbow sitting on the hard bench surface. The fingers of her other hand played with the  
edge of the tea towel that had been left sitting there.  
  
"I've never seen you like this before."  
  
"You've never seen me ill before either. There's a first time for everything." Kerry's voice was  
flat.  
  
Jeanie looked up, concerned. She had never heard Kerry like this. Obviously, the flu had  
taken its toll, not only physically but emotionally. Jeanie gave her a smile of understanding. "Kerry, I  
meant it when I said they cared about you. I was at the hospital yesterday and many of the staff asked  
me when you were returning."  
  
"They're probably hoping that I'll be out for at least another week."  
  
"I don't think so. Randi was a bit stressed out, muttering to herself about how the place always  
falls apart when you're not there." Jeanie laughed when Kerry shook her head in disbelief.   
  
"There's no way Randi gets stressed out."  
  
"It's true, Kerry. You only see her when you are there. You steer the ER and they all look up  
to you for leadership. I know it's hard being a leader, that you have to make decisions that your friends  
don't like - even your closest friends." Jeanie gave her a smile of understanding. "They hurt. Mark will  
get over his hurt."  
  
"Did you?"   
  
"It took time, but time heals a lot. We both fought for what we thought was right. Sometimes,  
even as friends, we are not going to agree." Jeanie gave Kerry a hug, reaffirming their friendship.  
  
"How's Carlos?"  
  
"Going well. He's got crawling down to an art and has worked out how to pull himself up on  
the furniture." Jeanie's face lit up as she spoke about her young foster son's achievements. Kerry  
listened to her descriptions of his antics and Jeanie's easy laughter filled the room.   
  
Kerry smiled, enjoying the stories. As she sat there, her head tilted to the side, she felt the  
pressure building in her temple. Kerry forced herself to concentrate on the words, but found that they  
sounded hollow and didn't make sense. Her vision blurred and she blinked, trying to refocus.  
  
"Kerry?" Jeanie noticed the loss of colour to Kerry's face. Putting down the tub of cottage  
cheese on the bench top, Jeanie was at Kerry's side, an arm behind Kerry's back and her other hand  
cupping Kerry's arm. "Come over to the couch and lie down. I think you've overdone it."  
  
Kerry offered no resistance to Jeanie's support. She needed to lie down. They moved slowly  
across to the couch and Kerry sank down onto it gratefully. Jeanie went back to the kitchen and  
poured a glass of chilled water.   
  
"Here, drink this." Jeanie handed her the glass.  
  
"Thanks," Kerry took a sip and leaned back against the back of the couch, running a hand  
across her forehead. It was damp with perspiration. "Jeanie, I haven't felt this bad in years. I can't do  
anything - I want to, but I've got no energy."  
  
"The flu is like that. You've been lucky enough to escape its grips for so long. Did you forget  
to have your flu shot?"  
  
Kerry ran her mind back over the past few weeks. She would normally get her flu shot at the  
beginning of November. She gave a frustrated groan. When would the tangled web of intrusion by her  
attacker stop? "I must have forgotten," she replied.  
  
"It's not like you to forget something like that. You were always reminding me and the rest of  
the staff in the ER to make sure we had our shots."  
  
"As I said, there's a first time for everything." Kerry deflected her query and put the half empty  
glass on the coffee table. She moved her legs up onto the couch and curled into a comfortable position  
against the pillows.  
  
"What meds have they got you on?" Jeanie pulled the afghan up over Kerry's legs, before  
Kerry had a chance to do it for herself.   
  
"Symmetrel. 200 mg per day. I've also been taking Tylenol for the nausea and headaches."  
  
"Do you need anything now?"  
  
"No. I think I'll just rest."  
  
"Okay. I'll finish sorting out the groceries and I'll cook something for you to eat later."   
  
"You don't have to do that."  
  
"I know. But I want to."  
  
Kerry caught Jeanie's hand as she went to move away and gave it a squeeze, then smiled at  
her. "Thanks, Jeanie. You're a great friend."  
  
End Part 11 


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12  
  
{November 17, 2000}  
  
Rain danced against the window, droplets of water running in rivulets down the clear glass to  
pool against the bottom on the window pane. Kerry leaned against the edge of the living room  
window, a glass of ice water in her hand, using the coolness emanating from the double glaze window  
to cool her still overheated body. She listlessly watched pedestrians scurrying down the street  
underneath multi-coloured umbrellas in the late afternoon downfall.   
  
It had been four days since she had been outside in the cold, late Fall air. Four days since  
Elizabeth Corday had ordered her home after she had finally collapsed at work under the strain of the  
flu. From what Carter had mentioned, her illness had been at the beginning of what was looking to be  
an epidemic striking the city.   
  
While Kerry knew what had been the real cause of her initial bout of nausea, the virus had been  
lurking in the background and over the next two days had reared its head and taken hold. Her lack of  
sleep and diminished appetite since her attack had left Kerry without her usual defences to fight the  
rapid onslaught of the infection.   
  
Today was the first time that she had been able to stand without dizziness assailing her.   
Tiredness still hit her in waves. Using her crutch to pull herself up straight, Kerry was about to head  
back to the comfort of the duvet when something caught her eye outside. It was a familiar shape, an  
unwanted memory.   
  
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, her hand coming to rest against her mouth in  
fear. She looked away from the figure and then back again with intense scrutiny, ensuring that she  
wasn't hallucinating his presence. The nearby street light provided enough illumination to confirm her  
fears. Kerry wished that it was just the virus plundering her body, playing havoc with her psyche. But  
when she looked again, *he* was still there, unmoving in the cold rain.   
  
She froze as memories of that night flashed through her mind, the terror that had gripped her  
when he had intruded into her life. He had divested her of any sense of privacy, leaving her feeling  
detached and secluded, a prisoner within her own home. There was an annoying whimpering noise in  
the room and Kerry turned around, expecting him to be there even though the house was locked up  
securely.   
  
Kerry realised that the sound was coming from her own throat. Looking back outside, she  
found that he was still standing there, watching. There was no fear or worry in his demeanour as he  
stood comfortably watching her house.   
  
She clenched her jaw tightly, her teeth aching under the tight pressure. Anger surged through  
her, restoring some energy into her lethargic body. She was enraged by his confidence, the way he  
appeared to feel it was his right to stand there, observing her every move. Heading across to the  
telephone, she dialed quickly, unconsciously keeping an eye on her living room door and listening for  
any sound of an attempted break-in.  
  
"Can I speak with Officer Jack Daniels?"  
  
"Officer Daniels is on patrol at the moment. You can leave him a message," the sweet-voiced  
receptionist offered helpfully.   
  
"It's Dr. Kerry Weaver. He investigated a break-in a couple of weeks ago at my house. The  
intruder is here again." Her voice wavered as she finished.  
  
"Is he inside?" Kerry could almost hear the woman sit up and pay attention to her call, the  
voice losing it's sugary-sweetness and becoming business-like.   
  
"No. Outside." Kerry cursed the fact that her phone was not cordless so that she could keep  
an eye on the man. "He's just standing there watching my house. Please, get someone to come and  
arrest him," she begged.   
  
"We'll have a unit out to you right away. What's your address?"  
  
Kerry rattled off her address, praying that they would get there quickly. She put the phone  
back down tentatively, not wanting to break her contact with the outside world. The thought of it just  
being her and him made her shudder.  
  
Moving back to the living room window, she watched him as he stood there. He hadn't moved  
at all, his eyes still focused on her townhouse. All of a sudden she knew he knew she was watching him.   
She pulled back involuntarily as she watched him and caught the leer of enjoyment that flashed across  
his face. He was enjoying the fear that he was sending through her. Kerry pulled the drapes closed,  
cutting herself off from his invasive gaze.   
  
As she sealed herself off from the outside world, she had the urge to turn on both the television  
and stereo to escape the noises that were amplified in the silence. The trickle of the water down her  
windows, the scrapes of the tree branches against her building and the thud of feet on the concrete  
pavement.   
  
Startled, she opened the curtains once again. A trio of boys ran together through the rain, their  
feet beating down heavily on the wet pavement. Relief flooded through her as she caught sight of her  
intruder still motionless beneath the tree. It was better that she could see him and face him down with  
the relative safety of her home as a barrier between them. Shutting him out only served to intensify her  
fear.   
  
Pacing back and forth across the window, she wondered what was taking the police so long.   
Glancing down at her watch, she noted that it was already more than five minutes since she had made  
her call. She looked back at the man as he stood there and a look of anger flashed across his face. He  
seemed to grow larger before her eyes, pulling himself upright and his shoulders back. The breadth of  
his shoulders reminded her of the wrestler she had treated six months ago. However, the demeanour of  
the intruder was an exact opposite of the good-natured Mr. Kornberg. There was no doubt in her  
mind that this person would never go out of his way to help others; he did what he did to serve his own  
needs without thought of how it affected anyone else.  
  
She finally heard the rise and fall of the police sirens. Their pitched wail filled the street long  
before the car turned the corner. Kerry watched her intruder look left and right, unsure of which way  
to run. He hesitated before taking off down the street, giving a long look at Kerry's townhouse. She  
could not see the expression in his eyes, but she imagined the sheer hatred filling them. It was a hatred  
that was fully reciprocated. Kerry could feel the tension building inside her as the sirens droned on and  
on without any sign of a patrol car. It frightened her that he was going to get away again, to continue to  
haunt her day and night.  
  
As the intruder ran away, his large feet hit the ground heavily, water splashing up and outwards,  
the water catching the bottoms of his black sweat pants. His gait was ungainly in the heavy rain, his  
steps awkward as he sought a firm purchase on the wet ground. The intruder tried to stop and turn, his  
dark runners slipping on the icy ground when he found that he was running in the direction that the  
police cars were coming from. His large body hit the pavement heavily. Scrambling to his feet again,  
he was about to take off up the street when two police cars turned the corner, their lights flashing and  
sirens blaring. He froze in position, the sight of the vehicles ceasing all function and he was like a deer  
caught in the lights of an oncoming vehicle; certain capture was coming and he gave no fight to free  
himself from the danger.  
  
Kerry watched as the police cars pulled to a halt haphazardly. Car doors opened wide and  
officers jumped out, pulling out their guns and setting him in their sights. One officer called out clearly to  
the intruder to freeze and put his hands above his head. In the midst of the flashing lights and rain,  
Kerry watched as the man raised his hands in the air.   
  
She couldn't make out what else was being called out as the wind stole away their words. But  
she saw his response to the instructions obviously being given. Her intruder went down on one knee  
and then the other, keeping his hands behind his head, before he lay face first on the cold pavement, his  
hands spreadeagled as three officers kept their guns trained on him as another patted him down for any  
hidden weapons.   
  
As they handcuffed him and put him in the patrol car, Kerry let out a sigh of relief. It felt like an  
oppressive cloud of darkness had been removed. She hadn't realised that she had been breathing  
shallowly during the whole episode, the worry that *he* would get away again frightening her.  
  
Kerry closed the drapes, cutting off the flash of red and blue lights illuminating the street. It was  
a sealing of another chapter in her life; the removal of the beast who had made the last few weeks a  
living hell.   
  
End Part 12 


	13. Chapter 13

Part 13  
  
{November 17, 2000}  
  
Relief washed over her. Kerry let her hand drop away from the curtain to her side. She went  
into the kitchen, distancing herself from the events taking place behind the closed curtains. Placing her  
crutch against the stool at the centre island, she moved around the kitchen comfortably.   
  
She pulled out a packet of mocha Kenya style coffee beans and her grandmother's old coffee  
grinder from the cupboard. There was nothing like the smell of freshly ground coffee brewing in a  
percolator. Using the old grinder reminded her of her childhood, when she would sit at her  
grandmother's kitchen table and turn the handle slowly to ensure the coffee beans were ground evenly  
and finely.   
  
Closing her eyes, Kerry twisted the handle exactly how her grandmother had taught her. As she  
listened to the sound of the beans being crushed by the metal, she remembered the aroma of her  
grandmother's kitchen; the cookies baking in the oven and the big pot of vegetable soup simmering on  
the stove. Her grandmother had constantly been cooking one thing or another, delighting Kerry with all  
her favourite foods whenever she came to visit.   
  
It was the chatter in the kitchen that she missed the most. Whenever she was at Grandma's  
home, there had always been talking. The idle chatter that they would make as they were cooking;  
discussing her schoolwork, the music she listened to and any other subject; there was virtually nothing  
she couldn't talk to her grandmother about. Even though she had been elderly with firm moral views,  
she also was progressive with the times and wasn't judgemental in her dealings with her only  
granddaughter. There had been a special bond between them which had only been broken upon her  
death.   
  
When Carter had taken up residence in her basement, she had once again experienced the joy  
of those kitchen discussions. It had enveloped her in a warm cloud of contentment and happiness.   
Although, Carter being in the kitchen had also meant she needed eyes in the back of her head, she  
yearned for what she had had with Carter and her grandmother, the soft swish of the metal coffee  
grinder the only break in the silence.   
  
Kerry looked over at the phone on the opposite wall, one part of her pushing at her to rush and  
dial Carter's number. Yet, the other, more hesitant and cautious part of her nature, held her back,  
caught in her fears of letting down the facade that she worked so hard to build as a protection against  
the vicious and malicious nature of society. The two halves of her mind were at war with each other,  
each reminding her of past events of support and betrayal by friends and enemies alike.  
  
The doorbell rang, breaking through her memories. Kerry froze, her hand stopping mid-turn  
and her fingers gripping the handle tightly. Bracing herself, she looked across at the black and white  
security monitor and saw two police officers were standing on her porch. It was Jack and Mac.   
  
Seeing them there, she had mixed feelings towards them. Gratefulness that they had finally  
caught her assailant combined with a thin veil of anger that it had taken so long. Right now, all she  
wanted to do was place the whole incident in the past and get back to normal. The doorbell rang again  
and Kerry realised that she would have to deal with them sooner or later.   
  
Sighing, she grabbed her crutch and answered the door. The two officers met her eyes and a  
fleeting smile ran across Jack's features before being chased away by his training. Kerry indicated for  
them to come in, before shutting the door again on the frigid night air.   
  
"Dr. Weaver, we have the suspect in custody..." Jack broke off, Kerry's simple nod of  
acceptance slicing through and touching him emotionally. He knew this case - her attack - had shaken  
her to the core. While he may not have known her prior to the incident, Jack had witnessed her  
attempts to cover her fear and the paramedics attending the scene had confirmed how much the attack  
had sent Kerry to what appeared to be the edge of hell and back. He also knew that if they were to  
bring her assailant to justice, he was going to have to continue with the harder part of his job. "We  
need you to come down to the station and ID him."  
  
"No, you can't." Fear coursed through her at having to face him again, even with the  
protection of the police. "I identified him from my house. You can't need me. I told you he was  
there, in the street, and that's where you caught him." Her words tumbled out, one word chasing the  
other in a desperate need of denying what Jack had just told her.  
  
Jack shook his head and Mac took control of the situation. "It's not good enough. You need  
to identify him from a line-up. You have to be able to say unequivocally that he is your assailant."  
  
Reluctantly, Kerry nodded, acknowledging that she would have to take this further step before  
the matter could be placed behind her. "Do I have to do this tonight?"  
  
"It would be better. He can then be charged and held in custody pending a hearing," Mac   
said. "We'll take you to the station and once you've identified him in the line-up, we'll take you home  
again.  
  
"I'll just go and get changed." She left the two of them standing in her living room before they  
could say another word.  
  
******************************  
CHICAGO POLICE DEPARTMENT  
******************************  
  
As Kerry slowly climbed out of the patrol car, trepidation at meeting her attacker face to face  
caused her steps to falter. These days, it seemed that uncertainty and anxiety were her constant  
companions, the strength and confidence in herself having been eroded to a wafer-thin shell.  
  
Mac touched her elbow lightly, a small movement of his hand indicating the way. Walking up   
the steps to the police department building, Kerry felt as if she was in another place, another time, living  
out someone else's life. The large, old building housing the police department was a remnant of its once  
glorious and ornate architectural past. Its masonry now drab and weatherbeaten, stained by the forces  
of time. It was almost as if the darker side of the criminals who were taken into the building had left  
their mark on the old stone. Glass automatic doors glided quietly open as the three of them reached the  
top step, the modern technology out of sync with the old exterior.   
  
The reception area was buzzing with activity, reminding Kerry of an average day in the ER.   
Distantly, she noticed that it essentially operated on a similar structure to the ER. The most urgent  
matters being dealt with immediately by those higher in rank; the more menial the task, the lower the  
rank of the officer dealing with the matter. Even though there was a sense of familiarity, the disparities  
rang out strongly. Kerry felt an uneasiness begin to permeate her fragile shell at what lay ahead, ceasing  
her movement in an instant.  
  
Once again, a hand touched her elbow and startled her back to awareness. Kerry berated  
herself for getting lost in time again. She had found that it took only a simple incident or thing to trigger  
off a spiralling vortex back into her memories. Memories that would send her pulse racing and her  
heart pounding heavily against her ribs as if trying to escape an unseen enemy from within.   
  
Her attacker - the enemy which had laid a destructive, lethal charge to her psyche - was here.   
In what Jack had described as a simple procedure, she could ensure that he remained locked up. Jack  
had explained the procedure that would operate in the car so she was prepared for what lay ahead.   
  
The detectives interviewing the suspect weren't quite ready for her and she was asked to wait.   
Kerry sat and waited on the old, wooden bench seat in the dingy hallway, her crutch clenched tightly in  
her hand, her knuckles blanched white under the pressure. I n her mind, Kerry pursued the physical  
features of her attacker, trying to sever her emotional turmoil from the practical, ensuring that she would  
not make a mistake when faced with the decision.  
  
A polystyrene cup danced in front of her eyes, drawing her out of her fugue. Mac offered her  
the cup with a smile. Kerry took it without questioning what it was. It was too much effort and she  
didn't think she could drink it anyway. Time seemed to drag on interminably before the detectives  
finally took her in for the line up.   
  
The larger of the two detectives ran quickly through the procedure again, making sure she  
understood what she had to do. "The glass is one way and he will be unable to see you," Detective  
Collins finished his diatribe.   
  
"It wouldn't matter anyway. He knows who will be responsible for calling his number." Kerry  
muttered under her breath to no one in particular.   
  
Kerry walked into the darkened room with an entourage of the detectives and police officers.   
It was a relatively small room, rectangular in shape. A few chairs were set against the far wall, directly  
opposite the large window. Kerry felt drawn to the bluish light in the opposing room. The room was  
painted a crisp, delicate shade of blue. The floor had a thick black line, broken by eight individual  
markers, beginning near the door.   
  
"Are you ready?" asked Detective Collins.  
  
Kerry nodded, not trusting her voice.   
  
He gave instructions for the men to be brought into the room. They moved in single file and  
Kerry's eyes searched every feature of each face. She stopped searching when number 2 walked in  
through the door, her breath catching in her throat. She tried vainly to say the number but found herself  
fighting to gain control, fighting to find her next breath.  
  
The detectives looked at her, understanding that she was going through some emotional turmoil.   
"Do you recognise your attacker?"   
  
Kerry nodded, realising that she was hyperventilating and trying her best to concentrate on  
calming her breathing while also dealing with nailing her attacker.  
  
"Which number?"  
  
She forced herself to wheeze the number. Kerry repeated it several times, ensuring that the  
detectives understood and once she saw that they did, she gave in.  
  
"Dr. Weaver?" Mac realised that she was in trouble, her breath coming out in gasps as she  
struggled to draw in air. Her thin body seemed to be swaying with the effort before finally giving into  
the forces of gravity. Mac only just managed to catch her before she fell to the ground.   
  
Someone looking on from the outside who knew Kerry would recognise the small, telltale  
fissures beginning to snake their way through the residual, protective layer. With the cracking of the  
shell came the opportunity of new life..... or the beginning of the end.   
  
End Part 13 


	14. Chapter 14

Part 14  
  
{November 17, 1999}  
  
As the world slowly came back into focus, Kerry allowed herself time to take in her  
surroundings. The room was small. A couple of hard, plastic chairs lined the stained wall on the  
opposite side of the room. A tiny, laminate desk occupied the far corner. Slowly, her eyesight  
regained perfect clarity, the haziness receding to the periphery of her vision.  
  
Kerry found that she had been placed on a vinyl couch, its gray cover having seen better days.   
As clarity came to her sight, an awareness of another person in the room registered. A pair of polished  
black shoes were firmly planted on the ground beside her. Long legs stretched out uncomfortably from  
their contorted position, seated in another of the hard, plastic seats pulled up beside the couch. As her  
eyes took in the figure, she recognised the familiar outline of Reggie.  
  
"Dr. Weaver. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Fine," Kerry responded, her throat dry and scratchy. She felt like she could drink a gallon of  
water and still ask for more.   
  
"You didn't look to fine earlier."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm fine now." Kerry tried to push herself up from the couch, finding it difficult as  
the word spun again.  
  
"Don't seem too fine," he commented watching her carefully. "I've called Jeanie."  
  
"You what?" Kerry turned her head quickly towards him, managed to maintain staying  
upright, even though her sudden movement hadn't helped her balance..   
  
"You obviously need someone to take care of you when you get home. You're still unsteady  
on your feet and Jeanie wouldn't forgive me if she found out that I'd let you go home alone in your  
condition. She'll stay with you."  
  
"I'll be fine," Kerry reaffirmed, trying to reassure Reggie as well as herself that she was okay.   
She leaned forward, holding her head in her hands, her arms resting on her knees. Looking tiredly  
across at Reggie, she pointed out, "Jeanie's got her hands full with Carlos."  
  
"I'm finishing my shift shortly. Carlos will not be an issue."   
  
"But I can't. Jeanie doesn't know."  
  
"What, the truth? The fact that you were attacked in your home by an intruder? That you were  
tied up and he attempted to rape you?" Reggie stated matter-of-factly, not softening the truth of the  
words.  
  
The words hit their intended target forcefully, disintegrating the thin veil of composure Kerry  
had managed to regain. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging herself tightly, protecting herself  
from the verbal onslaught. She shook her head slowly, denying the sting of hurt the words left behind.   
Reggie realised his mistake. His frustration with Kerry's lack of confidence in her friendship  
with Jeanie had got the better of him and lashed out against the one person who didn't need to be  
attacked right now. He sat down beside her, gritting his teeth as she visibly flinched at his imposing  
presence.   
  
"Dr. Weaver... Kerry.... Jeanie has been your friend for years now. Obviously this attack has  
affected you, why don't you let her help you?  
  
"It's affected me because the guy was still out there. Now he's caught, it'll be fine. I'll be  
fine," Kerry said determinedly. She felt the nails of her fingers biting into the delicate skin of her upper  
arms. Trying to gain some semblance of control, she forced herself to uncross her arms and fold her  
hands calmly in her lap.   
  
"So you'll tell Jeanie what's happened," Reggie asked quietly, leaning back against the sofa,  
hoping that his casual demeanour would help Kerry.  
  
"No. It's over. Why rehash it all now?" Kerry's fingers began twisting a contorted dance over  
each other.  
  
"Because you need to talk to someone about it."  
  
"No. I just need that guy to go to jail. End of story." The room was quiet, apart from the  
harsh, irregular breaths being forced between lips tightly clamped together. Her fingers were now  
blanched white by the tight grip her hands had on each other. "He will go to jail, won't he?" The  
question that had been troubling her was finally said. It worried her that her stalker would be following  
her home that night.  
  
"Yes. He should." Reggie didn't want to tell Kerry right now that there was a lot more  
involved in getting the guy to jail than the identification process. Subconsciously, he felt that Kerry  
knew that she would have to testify against him. In the meantime, her attacker should remain behind  
bars pending the hearing since he had been known to stalk his victim prior to and after the attack.   
  
Looking at the woman beside him, he had a hard time aligning her with the strong and capable  
Chief of Emergency Services he had dealt with on numerous occasions over the last few years. Her   
whole demeanour reminded him of a woman who had been subject to domestic abuse. He knew that  
Kerry had received minimal physical injuries in the assault, he had familiarised himself with the case  
while she had remained unconscious. It was the psychological damage that was obviously ravaging her  
ability to cope.   
  
Jeanie had mentioned how surprised she was at the way Kerry had succumbed to the flu, never  
having been ill in the time Jeanie had worked with Kerry. Reggie pursed his lips and decided that the  
call to his wife would possibly be the beginning of an end for the trauma for Kerry. A few subtle  
questions would set his wife's mind churning, the first would be tonight's little excursion.   
  
End Part 14 


End file.
